I Want a New Drug
by Logan Parker
Summary: Twelve year old Jack finally has the two things he’s always wanted in life: a family and a home. However he finds out the hard way that being a Mercer isn’t always a joy ride. Rated T for language and drug use. Now Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Note: **This is my first _Four Brothers _Fan fiction. Rated T for language and drug use. Enjoy.

**Summary**: Twelve year old Jack finally has the two things he's always wanted in life: a family and a home. However he finds out the hard way that being a Mercer isn't always a joy ride. Old habits die hard, and Jack's finds himself wishing that his new family would give him some space and let him hold onto his destructive vices. But they're a family now, and that means being there for him, whether they're wanted or not. Will Jack continue to live in the psychedelic world of drugs, or will his new family help him face his inner demons? And when his childhood nightmares resurface, at what lengths will Jack go to, to remove the plague they carry with them?

_I want a new drug._

_One that won't make me sick._

_One that won't make me crash my car,_

_Or make me feel three feet thick._

_I want a new drug._

_One that won't hurt my head._

_One that won't make my mouth too dry,_

_Or make my eyes too red._

_-Huey Lewis and The News_

**I Want a New Drug**

My watch says it's two oh nine in the morning, which means it's really two oh four. My watch is always five minutes fast.

I lean my head against the backseat's window, watching the other passengers through squinted eyes. Married men coming back from their girlfriends' houses, mothers getting off their second shift of work, teens mentally counting the money they've made from tonight's big drug sell. Welcome to Detroit; the largest city in southeastern Michigan, one of the most important car manufacturing centers in the world, and home to over 925,051 people. I am one in almost 100,000. Not a very encouraging number to an individualist.

The bus comes to a halt at it's last stop of the day; the ever pleasant subway. The bus quickly unloads, the late November air slicing through jackets. At least, those of us smart enough to have one on. I push through the emotionless people and step onto the escalator, taking us down to the boarding area. Luckily for me, the wind isn't welcome in the confined tunnel, and I'm able to warm myself up with the friction of my hands against my arms.

"You're a fuckin' genius, Jack Mercer." I curse myself again for wearing nothing more than a black long-sleeved shirt. I ignore the looks I get, and step into the subway train uneasily. I'm tired, frustrated, worried, cold, hungry, and most importantly, high. Not to mention stupid.

When the train stops, I unload once again and prepare myself for the winter night above ground. Four more blocks to my house. Four more blocks to my bed, to heat, to food, I tell myself. I walk swiftly through the parked cars and cursing taxi drivers.

"Guess sleeping is a thing of the past." I say out loud as I dodge after-Thanksgiving shoppers and noisy tourists. Why people want to come to the north in the winter, I'll never know. Just two more blocks, I encourage myself, sticking my hands into my jean pockets. I finger the small amount of cocaine and pills of Valium that I convinced Freddie to let me have. Freddie always gives me freebies when he's high.

I cringe when my house comes into view, noticing the living room light is still on. That means someone is waiting up for me, and that someone is mostly likely Bobby. Ma is easy. I can tell her I missed the ten oh clock bus, had to walk to the subway, and forgot the right stop to get off at. After all, I've only lived here a month and a half. Ma would nod her head, not quite believing, but not having energy to call me out on the lie. Then I could grab something to eat, sneak up stairs to my room, and fall asleep under the warm covers. Bobby Mercer isn't as easily charmed.

Bobby, who turned twenty-four last month, will call me out on the lie before I even have it out of my mouth. He'll know right away I'm on drugs, know who've I've been with, and lecture me on how I'm a Mercer now and a twelve year old kid has no business popping pills and snorting coke. It won't be the first time I've heard this lecture, and it won't be the first time Bobby's threatened to follow me around, night and day, to make sure I don't do any more drugs. I sigh, taking in a deep breath and preparing myself for a long night.

"Well, it's nice of you to finally show up, Jackie." Bobby's voice welcomes me as soon as the door is opened. I close it shut tightly behind me, being sure to lock it firmly.

"I-I uh, missed the bus." I tell him, biting my tongue in frustration. Why do I always fucking stutter around him? He stands up from his place on the couch, stretching his legs and back.

"I-I uh, don't believe that bullshit for one fucking second." He answer mockingly. He holds out his hand before I can answer, demanding me to give him whatever's in my pockets.

"And don't say you don't having anything either." He warns. "Jus' cause I dropped outta high school, doesn't mean I'm a moron." I dig around in my pockets, handing over the coke. He snatches it out of my hand angrily, dragging me into the downstairs bathroom.

"Snort it or flush it." He order sternly, daring any bullshit. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Instead, I take the bag from him and dump it into the toilet, watching longingly as it disappears.

"Don't ever let me catch you with this shit again." He hisses, pushing me out of the bathroom and towards the stairs. I nod mutely and take the stairs two at a time, anxious to get to my room. The lecture has been saved for tomorrow.

I shut my bedroom door behind me and kick off my shoes. Taking the three pills from my pocket, I look over my shoulder self-consciously, and down them quickly. Then I climb into bed, not bothering to change clothes, and start counting backwards from one thousand.

* * *

I roll over lazily on my side and fling my feet over the side of my bed. I sit up slowly, in no hurry to answer the head-throbbing wake up call, courtesy of eighteen year old Jerry. How's anyone supposed to get any sleep around here?

"Jack, get your lazy, white, ass the fuck down here right now!" Jerry screams. Again. I cradle my head in my hands, and wiggle my toes that are starting to fall asleep. I can hear Ma admonish Jerry, for cursing most likely, and pounding footsteps heading towards my room. Fucking hell, I think, here it goes.

"Jackie, I swear to God kid if I gotta drag your ass downstairs I will!" Angel threatens.

"What time s'it?" I mumble. Angel looks at me unsympathetically.

"Nine in the morning, Kiddo, and if ya didn't spend all night on the streets you wouldn't be so fuckin' tired!" He lectures. He grabs my arm and yanks me off of the bed.

"Get up. Get dressed. There's doughnuts downstairs. Bobby wants to play some hockey today, and you can bet your ass he's gonna repay ya for keeping em' up all fuckin' night." He tells me, slamming my bedroom door behind him. I sigh and flop to the floor, laying on my back and staring up at the ceiling. It's gonna be a long day.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: Thanks for the reviews. I really appreciate it. Comments/questions/criticism is always welcome. Rated T for language, drug use, and reverences to child abuse.

_If God is will_

_And will is well,_

_then what is ill?_

_God still?_

_Dew tell._

-J.B

**I Want a New Drug**

I groan as I flop down on my bed, nursing my sore legs. There's defiantly going to be bruises tomorrow. Bobby, Angel, and Jerry, had indirectly said how angry they were about my night out. Bobby had been the least forgiving, especially since this wasn't the first time I'd 'gotten off at the wrong stop'. Ma had simply looked at me with her knowing, merciful, eyes, and told me to make sure I got home on time from now on.

_Always screwing up, aren't ya Jack? Always fucking everything up. Can't do anything right._

The cold voice reprimands in my head. I know this speech well. It's been told on many occasions, by many different voices. The voices of all those foster parents through out the years. Of my own parents…

_A lousy piece of shit, that's what ya are. Get out of my fucking house!_

"Okay, okay." I mumble emotionlessly, feeling for the needle and bag of crystal methadone. "I'm getting out." I shove the dope into my back pocket and climb out of my bedroom window. I plan to leave and find Freddie, buy some more opium, but the view on the roof is too enticing to give up. I sit down on the black tiles, making myself comfortable, and load the needle up with the meth. I hold out my arm, reminding myself how stupid, ignorant, ridiculous…I am. I roll up my sleeves and press the needle into my vein, pumping the drugs into my system.

"Jack! Jack, where are you sweetheart?" Shit, Bobby. I drop the needle in surprise, watching it fall off the side of the roof.

"Shit, shit, shit!" I mutter, looking down at the ground nervously.

"Jack…what the _hell_ are you doing out there?" He questions curiously. I open my mouth to answer, but he puts his hand up to stop me.

"Never mind, forget I asked. Just get downstairs. We're eating dinner." He tells me, turning towards the door. I look back over the edge, trying to eye the needle.

"Oh and Jackie!" Bobby hollers from the door. I jerk around to face him.

"Y-yeah?"

"Don't stand so close to the edge. You might fall off, and I aint jumping after ya." He says spitefully, leaving my room. I huff in relief and look once more back over the edge.

_Such a clumsy little moron. _

The voice starts up again, taking me back two years. Two years ago in a rotting bathroom, looking through blurred eyes and my gushing wrists.

_Can't even fuckin' kill yourself right. What a waste of space._

I blink back tears and enter my room, swallowing down the voice like I always do. They're wrong, I tell myself, he was wrong.

"I'm not worthless." I whisper aloud, begging the drugs to kick in.

---

Jerry and Angel bicker through dinner, each claiming the other's team had cheated in the hockey game. Apparently playing hockey isn't a new thing to Bobby, Jerry, and Angel, since their friends joined us, already knowing which teams were which. I, on the other hand, had never so much as ridden a bike before I came here, let alone skated on ice or streets. I consider myself lucky if I can make it an entire game with out falling on my face.

"Jack, you've barely eaten anything. Aren't you hungry?" Ma asks, looking more concerned than I'm comfortable with. I'm not used to people being concerned about me, and it's almost aggravating at times. Still, the look on her face makes me want to assure her that I'm fine. I almost tell her not to worry, that I'm never hungry when I've been shooting up, but instead I just nod my head. I don't trust myself to say the words correctly, knowing they'll come off slurred and muffled.

I try to look interested in the conversation, but I can't process more than a few words at a time. By time an entire sentence has been spoken, the first part of it has been lost from my memory. It's like forgetting what you want to say, even when you're not the one saying it. It works with thoughts and actions too. Anything more complex than shoveling food in my mouth requires too much energy. I want to do what I always do when I'm high; lie on my bed and let my CDs repeat themselves. However Ma's concern keeps me put. Besides that, Bobby is giving me strange looks between his crude comments on Jerry and Angel's argument.

"Boys that's enough." Ma reprimands softly. I start to wonder if she ever yells, but again the thought is lost before I can think it. "Jack how did _you_ like the game? They weren't too rough were they?"

"Yeah Jack, you tell us who's the real cheater." Angel encourages, giving his big brother a sinister look. My big brother too, I think suddenly, how weird. I've never had a brother before, and here I am with three of them.

They all wait for a response, and I try to think of one appropriate for the question. But what was it she wanted to know again? What were Jerry and Angel fighting over? No, they weren't fighting. They were both smiling, looking at me with anticipation. Why? What was it they wanted to know?

"Jack, are you okay?" Ma asks worriedly. "You look sick." She reaches over to feel my head, and I stand up and jerk away so fast that my chair tips backwards.

"D-don't touch me." I warn her. The room spins and I can feel the memories in my head wanting to say something. The cold voice of my many foster parents. Of my father. But what could he want? And why was I standing up?

"Jack…Jack I'm not gonna hurt you." Ma says quietly, as if trying to calm a frightened animal. I grab onto the table to keep from falling.

"Dude, are you alright?" Jerry questions, his eyebrows lifting. I try to process the question, to tell them I'm fine, but….what is it? What _is_ it? I know that there's some memory that wants to come up, but I can't think of it. I laugh suddenly, finding how funny it is that I actually _want_ to think of it. Wasn't the reason I got high was to _not_ think of it?

"Jack, honey, sit down." Ma tells me sternly. I find it bizarre that all four of them are standing up, looking at me with caution, when I'm laughing. Isn't that a good thing?

"I-" I begin, but don't remember what I want to say. The room spins once more and stops, and I feel like I've just stepped off a carnival ride. My stomach lurches violently, and I back away from the table of people like it is a python hungry for action.

"Jack what is it? What's wrong?" Bobby asks with control. He seems to be the only one un-phased by my behavior but I can't muster the strength to wonder why that is.

"I-I think I'm going to be sick."

---

"_Don't touch me."_

The room is completely dark, and the covers stick to my sweating body. I try to kick them off, but they're too heavy and I'm too tired.

"_Don't be like that Jack. You know I wouldn't hurt you, right?"_

I curl up on my side and wish desperately that the window was opened.

"_Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. I don't want to. Please don't…please…"_

I clutch my eyes shut so tight that dark colors form underneath my eyelids. Maroon, orange, green…

"_Sh, not so loud Jackie. You don't want to wake your mother."_

I draw in a shuddery breath. Nine hundred and ninety nine, nine hundred and ninety eight, nine hundred and ninety seven…

"_No, no, please. I don't want to. I don't want to, it hurts. Please don't make me."_

I wrap my arms around me tightly. Nine hundred and ninety six, nine hundred and ninety five, nine hundred and ninety four…

"_There are bad people in the world Jack. People that will hurt you for no reason. People that won't love you like I love you."_

I sit up in bed and rock back and forth, back and forth. "Nine hundred and ninety three, nine hundred and ninety two…"

"_You know I love you, don't you Jack? I love you with all my heart. I'm your father Jack. Every father loves his son."_

"Nine hundred and…and….nine hundred and ninety." I say a little more loudly, covering my ears.

"_Don't touch me."_

"Don't touch me." I peek open my eyes and watch as the sun slowly makes its way through my window.

"_Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it Jack? Doesn't it?"_

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	3. Chapter 3

**Note**: Thanks again for the reviews. I'm glad you guys are liking it thus far. I'm trying to catch all grammar/spelling mistakes before I post the chapters, but I have had to edit a few times. I apologize for that.

_The blood, is it mine?  
Yeah, I say. Some of it.  
This is a wrong answer._

-Fight Club

**I Want a New Drug**

We stare at each other like it's some kind of contest. It's like this every time I come to Dr. Loren's office. She asks questions, I shrug or nod, and then Ma or one of my brothers comes to pick me up. I tell Ma every day that I don't need a psychiatrist. I tell her I'm _not_ crazy. She just smiles and says psychiatrists aren't just for crazy people.

"Jack…your mother says you sometimes have nightmares." Dr. Loren says. She's looking for some kind of confirmation, which I deny her. Instead I sit still, staring at my hands.

"Can you tell me what they're about?" She asks, careful not to anger me. This, of course, angers me. I don't have anger management problems.

"Jack…I'm only here to help you." Dr. Loren tells me. Bullshit, I think. You're here to make money. That's all anyone _really_ cares about. Except maybe Ma.

"Jack-"

"I don't want to talk about them." I cut her off curtly. She looks shocked for a second, maybe remembering that I can talk after all, but she quickly recovers.

"Well, what _do_ you want to talk about?" She questions, scribbling something down in her notebook. That angers me too.

"Could you not do that?" I ask impatiently. She tosses a sideways glance to me before putting down her notebook.

"Not write in that, you mean?" She asks, though she clearly knows the answer. I nod. Speaking to her is like speaking to a brick wall.

"How do you like your new home?" She changes the subject, shifting in her seat. I look up at her, brushing my too-long-hair out of my eyes.

"It's hardly _new_." I state hastily. "But I like it." I add with less annoyance. This seems to please her and she smiles at me.

"Good, I'm glad. Your mother told me that there was an incident yesterday…you were sick at dinner? Jack-"

"I don't really think that's any of your business." I reply before she can finish. She makes a reach for the notebook, but stops shortly.

"Okay, well then…you want to tell me about the pot your brother found in you room?" I cross my arms over my chest defiantly and stare her down. She does the same, and in other circumstances I might have found it amusing. I _almost_ find it amusing now.

"Jack, your mother is worried about you. She thinks that you were on drugs yesterday." She tells me. I huff indignantly.

"_Bobby_ thinks I was on drugs yesterday." I answer bitterly. The memory of Bobby questioning me this morning, yelling at me until Ma order him to leave me alone, is still fresh in my head.

"Bobby seems like a smart guy. You know he knows what it's like to be in your shoes. Bobby had drugs problems when he-" She begins to lecture.

"I don't have any fucking drug problems!" I yell, standing up in a threat to leave. She doesn't fall for the bait.

"I wasn't talking about you was I? I was talking about Bobby."

"You were imply-"

"I was implying that maybe Bobby knows more about this kind of thing than he's letting on to. Maybe it'd do you good to listen to him. He wants to protect you. As do Angel and Jerry and your mom. They're your family now Jack." She interrupts. I fall back into the seat and prop my head in my hands.

"That's what they keep telling me."

---

Today is Monday and Angel is taking me to school and picking me up. Bobby is at a 'friend's' house, and Jerry has basketball practice, so Angel got stuck with the job. He's had his license for barely three months, so Ma told me that I couldn't 'antagonize' him while he was driving. Not that I do that much to any of my brothers anyways. It always seems to be the other way around.

"You actually going to stay at school today?" Angel asks sternly, referring to last Tuesday when I skipped school to smoke pot with some friends. Of course, I failed to mention the reason behind skipping school. The teachers had just called Ma to tell her I wasn't here, since she had asked them to. I look at him as innocently as I can, repressing a smirk.

"Of course." I tell him, not really sure myself. I don't actually mind school all that much. Or my teachers. The problems of sixth grade hardly compare to the problems of foster care.

"Jack." Angel states seriously, latching on to my arm. I look at his hand emotionlessly, and let my eyes drift to his 'not bullshit' stare. "You better." I nod once and hop out of the car, catching a glimpse of some the guys I get high with outside of school. If only Angel knew…or Bobby. If Bobby knew he'd probably kill them all. That's just how Bobby is.

"Jack!" Angel calls from his car, ready to drive himself to the high school. I look back at him to signalize that I heard him call my name.

"Tell all these fuckers who your big brothers are. Make sure they know who they're messing with should they decide to give you any shit." Angel says, loudly enough to catch the attention of some of the guys near him. I smile at him, and he smiles back before driving off. Sometimes it's nice having brothers.

---

Roger Clemons is fifteen and in the eighth grade. I want to ask him if there's a limit for how long you can be in middle school, but Roger Clemons is kind of big so I decide against it. Instead I try to steer away from him and ignore his ceaseless name calling and his 'accidental' shoves in the hallway. Today though, it's impossible to ignore him.

"Hey faggot! Are all your brothers black, or just your chauffeur?" Roger calls out to me during lunch. As always, I pretend I don't hear him and keep talking with Jonas Orchard and Keith Myers.

"Hey….I know you heard me you little shit!" Roger yells, grabbing the back of my jacket roughly. Keith stands up in fighting stance, but Jonas keeps eating, too high to take notice of the action.

"Drop him!" Keith demands. I shake my head, knowing this isn't going to end well.

"This your little boyfriend, Jackie?" Roger teases, shaking me for effect. I jerk out of his hold and face him.

"Don't. Call. Me. That." I order, emphasizing each word. I don't like it when my brothers call me that, let alone this jackass. That was my dad's name for me.

"Why Jackie, that's no way to talk to your elders." He says with mock superiority. I clinch my fists together, feeling my nails dig into my palm.

"Leave him alone Roger." Jonas finally decides to step in. Roger smirks and places his hand on my shoulder with feigned friendliness.

"Do your parents know that you're a homo? Is that why they didn't want you Jack?" I can feel my blood boil, and my fist connects with his jaw before I can think about it. Five seconds later I'm on the floor, with Roger on top of me, pounding on me like no tomorrow. This is what he wanted, I think. A reason to pound on me. Good going Jack.

"Fight! Fight!" The other kids in the lunchroom scream, gathering around to watch like it's a sideshow at a circus. White pain soars through my body, as his fist connects yet again with my ribs. Fuck, he can hit hard. I bring my knee up into his stomach, watching with pleasure as the shock registers on his face.

"Break it up! I said, break it up!" A teacher yells, pulling Roger off of me. He coughs violently, pulling himself up to his feet. I sit up, and for the first time, notice the blood running from my mouth and nose. Shit this is bad, I think, wiping my nose on my sleeve.

"Get up now Jack Mercer. I want you both in the principals office, pronto!" My math teacher demands. Mr. Lennox? When did he get here?

"Now!" He barks, dragging me to my feet. I give a crooked smile to Keith and Jonas, letting them know I'm okay, and walk beside Mr. Lennox to the office that always smells like peppermints and Lysol. I look down at my bloody shirt and grimace. Shit, I think once more, Bobby is going to be furious.

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	4. Chapter 4

_My hands are tied  
The billions shift from side to side  
And the wars go on with brainwashed pride  
For the love of God and our human rights  
And all these things are swept aside  
By bloody hands time can't deny  
And are washed away by your genocide  
And history hides the lies of our civil wars_

-Civil Wars, _Guns N' Roses_

**I Want a New Drug**

Ma can be a real mother bear when she wants to be. She couldn't understand why I was being suspended when I was obviously the 'victim', and didn't go out of her way to hide her thoughts on the matter. Even when the principal tried explaining to her that fighting was against the school policy, regardless of who started it, she was adamant that 'her son' shouldn't be punished for being picked on. The principal gave me a week of detention instead.

"I never knew you could be so...convincing." I admit to her on our way home. I have to say that while it was slightly embarrassing to have your mother come to the school to chew the principal out, it was all worth it to hearing Principal Hobbs stutter nervously.

"Well, I _am_ a social worker." She reminds me, obviously pleased with the compliment. "Besides, I have to deal with enough adults mistreating children at work, and I won't have that know-it-all getting the wrong impression of _my_ son." She says this so proudly that I can't help but smile. My smile fades quickly though when I think that maybe the principal's impression wasn't so wrong. I may not have started the fight, but I still wasn't completely innocent.

"Hey Ma..." I start when our house is in view, "You think that when you call Angel to tell him not to pick me up, that you could maybe not mention this?" She lets out a genuine laugh and touches my cheek affectionately.

"Oh baby, there's no way your brothers are not going to notice your swollen lip and nose." She answers playfully. I hang my head in hands. Shit, I didn't even think of that.

"Well, just don't say anything okay? I'll...I'll tell em'...that I...that I got hurt in P.E." I say, snapping my fingers at my quickly made excuse. I guess some things about foster care come in handy. She pulls into the driveway and turns off the engine.

"Jack...I'm not going to lie to your brothers. And neither are you." She tells me seriously, but with an undertone of amusement. I groan with annoyance. What's up with this family and honesty? It's not like Bobby, Jerry, and Angel never lie about anything.

"But Ma...you know how they'll react. You know how they are." I whine. She brushes my hair out of my eyes patiently.

"Oh yes, I know how they are. And I know how they'll react. They're my sons after all, and your big brothers." She agrees, getting out of the car. I follow her into the house, glad that no one's home yet.

"Angel will be home at four." She reminds me, heading into the kitchen. Even though she doesn't say it, I know what her meaning is. I have until then to think of a convincing reason why they shouldn't beat the shit out of Roger Clemons.

---

As soon as Angel's car pulls up in the driveway, I dash up to my room, ignoring Ma's laughter.

"I'm glad she finds this so amusing." I say bitterly, though I'm not really angry at her. I'm too busy trying to stay hidden from Angel. I really don't want to be thought of as the kid who gets his big brothers to solve all his problems for him. Even though my brothers have told me time and time again to let them know if I have a problem.

I hear Angel and Ma talking downstairs, though I'm not sure what they're saying. I can tell by their easy-going voices that it doesn't have to do with the fight at school though. I guess Ma's leaving it up to me to explain.

I run to my bedroom door and lock it when I hear Angel's footsteps coming up the stairs. For a fleeting second I think that he decided to go to his room and leave me alone. Then he knocks on my door and I remember that I'm not that lucky.

"Jack, what the fuck? Open the door man, I wanna talk to you." Angel says, jiggling the door knob. No one ever locks doors in this house.

"Uh, Angel I'm a little busy." I answer frantically, then I curse myself for sounding so nervous. If that doesn't raise his suspicions then I don't know what will.

"Really? Too bad. Open the door now." He demands.

"Angel really, I'm uh...doing homework." I state. So much for a good excuse, I think. Angel twists the knob more roughly.

"Jack Mercer, you better not be doing what I think you're doing." He warns, implying all kinds of consequences.

"What do you think-" I'm starting to ask when he cuts me off.

"If you're smoking pot or doing dope, I swear on my life kid, you'll be hurting for a month!" He threatens. I shake my vehemently, then remember he can't see me.

"Angel, I'm _not_ doing drugs!" I protest, knowing the only way he'll believe me is if I open the door.

"Uh huh, and I know that because...?" Yep, I knew it. I step towards the door cautiously like it might attack me, and get ready for the shit to hit the fan.

"Angel, I'll open the door alright? But, you have to promise you won't get mad first." I tell him, knowing good well that his promise will mean little to nothing.

"You are doing drugs, aren't you?" He accuses. I sigh deeply.

"No Angel. Please just promise me." I beg. It's silent on the other side for a moment or two, and I think that maybe he left, but then he sighs back and promises he won't he get mad. I unlock the door and open it slowly, watching as Angel's eyes dart around the room behind me, then rest on my face when nothing in the room is worth being angry about.

"What the hell happened to your face?" He almost yells, his eyes growing wide. I knew this was a bad idea.

"Jack, answer me." He demands, grabbing my chin to get a closer look. I jerk away hastily.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it." I answer, stepping out into the hallway.

"Nothing my ass! Who did this to you? This is why Ma picked you up from school, wasn't it? Jack, tell me who. did. this. to. you." He demands with mounting frustration. I try to walk past him to go downstairs, but he blocks my way.

"It doesn't matter Angel." I answer tiredly. "Let me by."

"Like hell it doesn't matter! Ma!" Angel calls, walking past me. He sounds like a little kid, I think with amusement. I follow him into the kitchen where Ma is washing dishes, and I give her an exasperated look.

"Ma, what happened to Jack? He won't tell me." He whines like a child. Ma laughs and places the dish towel down on the counter.

"I told you, you wouldn't be able to keep it from them." She says to me. "Jack had a little run in with a kid at school." She says to Angel.

"Yeah, I figured that much! Who is it though? I know you know, Ma." He answers, raising his voice. Ma simply goes to the pantry to take out what she's making for dinner.

"Lower you voice Angel. We're all in the same room." She admonishes lightly. Angel throws his arms up in anger.

"Ma, will you _please_ tell me who did this to my little brother?" He asks more quietly. Ma looks from me to Angel, and then to the front door as Bobby and Jerry come barging in, arguing.

"Finally!" Angel says happily. "Some back up!"

---

"Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?" Bobby yells rhetorically. After almost an hour of three against one, and Ma as an on looker, my brothers finally got the whole story out of me. Of course, I left out most of the things that Roger said to me, hoping that would keep my brothers tempers in check. Apparently, that didn't work.

"Bobby, language." Ma says sternly, getting up from the couch to check on dinner. Bobby is pacing the living room, and Jerry and Angel are sitting on chairs across me. I shrink under their scrutinizing glare.

"I can't believe you got in trouble for that shit." Jerry states angrily.

"I can't believe someone would have the nerve...to mess with a fucking twelve year old kid." Bobby seconds sharply. I can almost feel his blood boil.

"Where does this kid live? This Roger Clemons kid?" Jerry questions me. I shrug truthfully. How would I know?

"I can't believe this kid is still in middle school. Musta' failed-" Angel starts to say, but once again Bobby cuts him off with his ranting.

"Who gives a fuck why he's still in middle school?! I'm with Jerry, I wanna know where this little shit lives!" Bobby barks furiously. I shift uncomfortably on the couch, wishing Ma would come back in. They tend to act more calmly around her.

"You guys...don't do anything alright? I mean, I'm fine. Besides you can't just show up at his house. That's illegal." I plead, hating how timid and scared I sound. Hell, I _am_ kind of scared when my brothers get like this. Especially Bobby. I'd rather face a starving lion than Bobby when he's angry.

"Of course we're going to do something. 'Sides it aint like we haven't done anything illegal before." Bobby counters, almost to himself.

"You know Marco might know where he lives. Marc used to sell...well, they used to hang together." Angel says suddenly. I inwardly groan.

"Right, they did, back in sixth grade. Call him up and ask where the jackass lives." Jerry orders, sending Angel off to call this Marco guy.

"Bobby please-" I start to beg, but Bobby holds up his hand.

"Nobody touches one of my brothers and lives to tell about it. Nobody."

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	5. Chapter 5

**Note**: Thanks for all the reviews. Feel free to make suggestions/corrects/comments. I am open to all types of criticism.

_Watching white moon face_

_The stars never feel anger_

_Blah, blah, blah, the end_

-Fight Club

**I Want a New Drug**

The eighth graders don't come near me. Especially those that were friends with Roger Clemons. The word's out; I'm a Mercer. Before it was just a last name, but now it's a family and a history and a warning. I don't worry about bullies anymore. My circle of friends grows larger with the rumors, and guys I don't even know keep asking me if it's true. I pretend I don't know what they're talking about, but of course that's a lie. My brothers' messed up knuckles and satisfied glances were a dead give away, even if they didn't come right out and say it. Roger Clemons is in the hospital, and it's no surprise to me.

Of course it has it's cons. For starters, my drug buddies have decreased significantly. No one wants to be caught getting high with Bobby, Jerry, and Angel's little brother. That means I have to go back to Freddie. Freddie who always wants favors in return for his merchandise. Then there's the problem of getting caught. Freddie doesn't live two blocks away, or go to school with me, like these guys do. He lives almost thirty minutes away from home, which under my brothers' suspicious watch, can hardly go unnoticed. It's been nearly three days since I last shot up, and I'm already having withdrawals.

By the time school gets out and I meet Jerry in the parking lot, my hands are shaking, my head is hurting, and my stomach is weak. If he notices these things though, he doesn't mention them. He's too busy staring straight ahead and looking angry. His swollen knuckles are white from griping the steering wheel too tightly.

"Jerry….I thought Ma was going to pick me up." I state quietly. He's obviously not in a good mood, and I don't want to provoke his temper. He gives me a sharp glance before pulling into my psychiatrist's parking lot and turning of the car.

"Jerry, I don't go to Dr. Loren's office today." I remind him gently, wondering why he'd think I did. It was every Thursday at four oh clock. Today was Tuesday. He continues to stare ahead for a moment before turning to look at me.

"You are today." He tells me, leaving no room for argument. He pulls out a needle from his jacket pocket and thrusts it on the dashboard. "I found this on the ground underneath your bedroom window." I grit my teeth. Why the hell didn't I look for the damn needle?

_Once again, you've proved just how stupid you really are, Jack._

"It's time we talked about this Jackie. If ya want, I'll go in with you, but we have to talk. _This,_" He says, waving the needle, "Is not okay. It's dangerous. I've been there before, Jack, and I know what it's like. But it's not the answer." I slouch in my seat and stare at my hands.

"Jackie-"

"Don't call me that!" I hiss sharply. He's taken aback by my outburst and takes a second to recover.

"You were fine with it before, what's wrong with it now?" He asks patiently. I prop my feet on the dashboard and glare at the forgotten needle. Why did I have to be so stupid, all the fucking time? If there was one thing my dad was right about…

"_Jack_…look man, I'm your brother now. I know, maybe, you've had bad experiences in the past. I know you've probably been through a lot of shit, hell we all have, but you can't let your past control your future. You're better than that." Jerry lectures calmly. I shake my head in denial.

"No I'm not, Jerry. Maybe you are, and Bobby, and Angel…but not me. I'm not better than this. _This_-" I say, mimicking his earlier action with the needle, "This is my life. This is what I am. A drug addict. A moron. A selfish piece of shit that doesn't care about anyone other than myself. This is what I deserve, Jerry. Not you or Bobby or Angel or Ma. I deserve shit. Because that's what I am."

Suddenly I feel like the car is too small and too hot and too crowded. The smell of the leather seats is too strong, and the silence is too suffocating. I feel like maybe I'll be sick if I don't get out. Maybe I'll die even. Then Jerry places his hands on my shoulders and squeezes them lightly.

"Hey, that's not true. You're my little brother. And _no one _can talk about my little brother that way." He whispers. I nod tightly and open the car door, breathing in the cold wind that greets me.

"C'mon, she leaves soon." I lie, wiping my eyes impatiently.

---

I watch the game on T.V, not really caring who's winning or losing. I realize that the good thing about hockey is you can pretty much get away with anything. Or at least it seems that way to me.

"Oh c'mon! That was cheap shot!" Bobby hollers at the screen, making my already pounding head protest wildly. I scoop up the blanket I have around me, and go into the kitchen where Ma is making gingerbread. As much as I've heard about gingerbread being a Christmas tradition, I've never actually tried it. I hop up on the kitchen counter beside where she's working, and watch her mix the ingredients together.

"Bobby too loud for you?" She asks understandingly. She understands most everything. I nod and smile at the pride in her eyes.

"That kid…sometimes I just don't know about him." She says almost to herself. I pull the blanket under my chin and cough half-heartedly.

"He's hardly a kid." I remind her. She just pats my cheek and continues mixing.

"Oh to me he'll always be a kid." She answers. "You're not getting sick are you?" I shake my head no and watch her add flour to the bowl.

"No…just withdrawals and stuff." I answer embarrassedly. Jerry had stayed up the night of the 'needle incident' ad explained why we had been late coming home from school. Dr. Loren had said crystal meth was strong stuff that shouldn't be taken lightly, and had started me on some injections. They were supposed to lessen the withdrawal symptoms, but since I was so young, she couldn't give me the normal dosage. She was afraid that it would do more bad than good, so I just have to deal with it.

"Oh. You wanna help?" She quickly changes the subject. Ma knows when not to push something.

"Sure." I answer casually, more willing than I let on to. I secretly enjoy cooking, but I'd never let my brothers know that. She hands me the eggs and retrieves the sugar from the cabinet.

"Crack those on the side of the bowl. Yeah, nice, like that. Okay, now pour it in." She instructs. I follow her directions carefully, not wanting to screw anything up.

"Ma, I know you're not having him do what I think he's doing." Bobby interrupts cynically. "Jack, put down the eggs. We're going to go have some man-to-man time. C'mon, off the counter." I hop off the counter unwillingly. Bobby puts his arm around my shoulders and looks at Ma with mock seriousness.

"Ma, I'm really disappointed in you. Brainwashing my little brother like this. It's unchristian-like. You should be ashamed." Bobby says sarcastically. I whine as he leads me out of the kitchen, secretly relishing Ma's echoing laughter.

---

I open my bedroom door, making sure everything's clear before exiting. I'm not looking forward to walking to the subway in the cold, but I don't have the money for the bus fare. I couldn't very well ask Ma or my brothers for it, it would seem too suspicious, so I'd have to walk. At least this time I'll be wearing a coat.

I open the front door quietly, and shut it back firmly, but not before assuring myself that the extra key is in my jean pocket. I shiver as the wind burns my face. The quicker I find Freddie, the quicker I can get the shit, get it sold, and go home.

Damn Freddie and his favors.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Note**: As always, thanks to everyone who's reading and reviewing this. It's the only way to know what you guys like and don't like. Keep in mind the rating; language, drug use, and reverences to child abuse. Enjoy.

_They say that music can alter moods_

_And talk to you,_

_Well can it load up a gun for you_

_And cock it too?_

_Well if it can then the next time_

_You assault a dude_

_just tell the judge it was my fault_

_And I'll get sued._

-_Eminem_

**I Want a New Drug**

Freddie's hair hangs down in clumps over his shoulders, black and greasy. His eyes are red from too many drugs and not enough sleep. His skin is pale, and he's far too skinny. This is how Freddie always looks. He opens his apartment door, letting me slide in, and leads me past half-dressed women and stoned 'clients'. His apartment is the same as it always is; dirty and trashy and smelling of vomit.

I scoot into his bedroom where he keeps his stash, blocking out the obscene music and loud arguments from the next room. This is the projects, my home before Ma took me into hers.

"Here's the list of buyers." He coughs, thrusting a list into my hand. The list hardly ever changes, besides losing the customers who overdose or get arrested. Some of these people I was friends with growing up. Others Freddie's been selling to since before I was born. He hands me a book bag full of an assortment of drugs.

"Be sure to have these delivered by this time tomorrow. Or else they'll be some unhappy customers." Freddie says warningly. He pulls out a few sticks of weed, pressing them into my hand.

"Those…and these," He tells me, adding some blue pills, "Are for you." He lights one up for himself, then pushes me out his bedroom door. "Be sure to bring the bag back and deliver me my money!" I nod distractively and make my way to the front door. I'm almost out when someone calls my name.

"Jack! Hey Jackie Michaels!" I look towards the direction of the voice, startled when I see my best friend Danny. He waves his hand for me to come over to the kitchen table where he's sitting. Next to him is our other friend Rob, slicing the powdered coke into lines.

"Danny, long time no see." I state, feeling his arms wrap around me. I hug him back, remembering our past nine or so years together. Our fathers sold together and the two of us often got left at home alone. Our earliest memories together are of when I was three and he was five, though I'm sure our fathers knew each other longer.

"Yeah man. Where ya been?" He agrees, letting me go and standing back to get a look at me. Danny is a good three inches taller than me, though he's only fourteen. I've always been kind of small for my age.

"I was adopted. You haven't heard? My last name is Mercer now." I inform him, sitting in the chair beside his. Rob shoots another line before acknowledging me.

"No kidding?" Rob asks uninterestedly. I nod vaguely, watching as a boy twice Rob's size sits next to him, putting his around Rob's shoulders.

"Oh Jack, this is my boyfriend Bob. Bob this is my friend Jack." Rob tells me proudly. Danny raises his eyebrows and gives me a knowing look.

"The fairy finally came out of the closet he was hiding in." Danny tells me jokingly. Rob gives him a playful punch before leaning into his boyfriend.

"Uh, well, congratulations." I tell Rob awkwardly. Sure Danny and I had always suspected he was gay, but it was still somewhat shocking.

"Thanks." Rob answers. "Want some?" He points to the coke, sliding a line over. I think about the grueling withdrawals I've not yet got over and shake my head.

"Nah. Thanks though. I'm trying to stop." I admit. The three of them laugh over the obnoxiously bad music.

"Man I thought Jimi Hendrix would go clean before you would." Danny kids, though there is some truth behind it. Of the three of us, I was always the most dependant on drugs. Though Danny and Rob didn't fall far behind me.

"Hendrix died in the eighties man." Bob reminds Danny. Danny only shrugs.

"What're you up to tonight, Jackie?" Danny questions, popping a handful of pills. I want desperately to the pop the pills Freddie gave me, but I fight off the urge.

"You know how I feel about being called Jackie." I tell him with annoyance. "Got some shit to sell. Then hopefully I'll be done with this place for good." Danny stands up and grabs his jacket.

"Well, I'll help. We'll get it done quicker working together. 'Sides I never get to see ya anymore." Danny says, and a wave of guilt comes over me. Danny deserves better than this. It sucks that he's stuck here while I have a home and a family that cares about me.

"Alright. Sounds good." I consent, standing up. Rob begins to say good bye, but is cut off by a roar of bullets.

"Holy shit!" Danny screams, grabbing my arm and pulling me to the floor. I peer around him into the living room where the shooter is standing, obviously high like the rest of the people here. I recognize him right away. Some of the half-dressed girls scream, some of the guys take cover like Danny and I, and others are too high to notice that anything's out of the ordinary. The man pulls the trigger twice more, shooting a guy in the neck, before Freddie comes running out of his room, dressed only in jeans.

"What the fuck is going on?" Freddie screams over the chaos. The shooter rants and raves, but I can't hear what he's saying over the music.

"Danny…what's going on?" I ask, scared out of my mind. This isn't the first time I've witnessed a murder, but it's not something you ever really get used to.

"Don't know." He answers, looking to where Rob and Bob are hidden under the table. His nails dig into my skin as the gun goes off twice more, sending Freddie down in a heap. The shooter lights up a match and tosses it on the couch. It ignites, quickly spreading to the rest of the living room.

"Shit. Shit we gotta get out!" Danny screams, tugging on my arms and leading me to the window above the kitchen sink.

"Go!" He yells at me, urging me forward. I jiggle the handle, then revert to kicking out the glass when it refuses to move. I look over my shoulder and see Danny pulling Rob and Bob out from under the table, and bringing them to the window as well. The other people in the apartment are kicking, screaming, crying, cursing, and searching for other people through the thick smoke.

"Go Jack!" Danny orders. I carefully crawl through the window, not wanting to cut myself on the shards of glass, and then jump the short distance to the ground. Thank God Freddie's apartment is on the first floor. I help Rob, Bob, and finally Danny, come through the window and the four of us run to the sidewalk, watching the flames eat at the building. Fire engines wail down the highway, and we take that as our cue to get the hell away. We run through the back alleys, only stopping when we're at a safe distance from the housing projects.

"Shit! Shit, this is bad." Rob declares, panting hard. Bob puts his hand on his shoulder trying to calm him. I rest my hands on my knees, drawing in breath uneasily.

"Who the hell was that?" Bob asks imploringly. I shove my hands in my pockets and lean against the alley wall. Danny gives me a serious look and I swallow thickly.

"My dad." I answer, barely above a whisper. "My dad killed Freddie Fitzpatrick." I slide down the wall to sit on my knees, noticing for the first time that I don't have the book bag of drugs.

"And I lost it." I mumble. "I lost fifty thousand dollars in dope."

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	7. Chapter 7

_Mama, put my guns in the ground  
I can't shoot them anymore.  
That long black cloud is comin' down  
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door._

_-Bob Dylan_

**I Want a New Drug**

I feel the bed sink under my weight as I bury my head in my hands and cry. I had been stupid to think that getting rid of my old last name meant getting rid of my old life. I had been stupid to think that I'd never have to get caught up in this kind of shit again. I choke on my tears and curse myself for being so weak. Why did it all have to come down to me being stupid? Why couldn't I have been born with an inkling of common sense?

I lift my head from my hands and dig around in my pockets for the blue pills. What good did crying ever do anyways? Never solved anything in the past. I clutch the pills in my hand tightly, feeling them leave impressions in my palm. This is all I'll ever be, despite Jerry's denial. I'm a screw up.

"Drop em'." Bobby orders from the doorway. I jump at his voice and drop the pills instinctively. He walks over to where I'm sitting, picks the pills up off the floor, and sits down beside me.

"You know what this shit is?" He questions curiously. At least he's not yelling at me. I shake my no truthfully and watch his expression grow grim.

"Jack, that's stupid. Taking drugs that you don't even…do you realize you could die doing shit like this?" He says worriedly. It dawns on me suddenly that he's worried about _me_. He's worried that _I_ could die.

"I'm sorry." I whisper, not knowing what else to say. He shifts on the bed to face me, making me even more uncomfortable, and lifts my chin so that our eyes meet.

"Why don't you tell me what you've been doing for the past four hours." He urges quietly. Four hours, I think, I was gone that long? I laugh bitterly, causing Bobby to narrow his gaze.

"Where do I start?" I ask myself more than him. I feel like I can make it to seeing Danny, but if I start talking about the shooting or the fire or my father I'll start crying again. The last thing I want to do is cry in front of Bobby.

"How about from the beginning?" Angel suggests from the doorway, entering the room followed by Jerry. I groan out loud.

"God, don't you guys sleep?" I grumble. They look at each other and shrug.

"Not when there's something more interesting going on." Jerry states. They both climb on the bed, causing it to squeak under the weight.

"You think there's a weight capacity on this thing?" Angel asks randomly. Bobby rolls his eyes.

"You guys…me n' Jackie were actually trying to have a conversation before you two barged in." Bobby tells them off with annoyance. Jerry sticks his tongue out at him from behind Bobby's back.

"Well, sorry your royal pain-in-the-ass, continue your conversation." Angel says sarcastically, laying out on the bed and propping his feet on Jerry's lap.

"Hey!" Bobby says indignantly, punching Angel in the arm. I laugh at my brothers' childish bickering, glad for the subject change.

"Sh, you guys are going to wake Ma up!" Jerry hisses. Bobby and Angel exchange glares before turning their attention back to me.

"So Jack…start at the beginning and tell us how you came home smelling like smoke." Bobby demands, turning more serious. I draw in a shaky breath and begin my story with Freddie and his damn favors.

---

"Fucking hell." Jerry says distantly once I've completed the night's saga. Bobby lets out an uneasy breath and tugs at his hair.

"This is bad, Jack." He comments. I nod in agreement.

"I know. I know it's bad." I answer vaguely. A wave of tiredness overcomes me, and I wish more than anything that I could go to sleep. Jerry, Angel, and Bobby seem wide awake though, shocked by the dilemma I've found myself in.

"Well, all I've got to say is, Freddie should consider himself lucky to be dead. He wouldn't have gotten off so easily if I would have got a hold of him." Jerry states. Bobby agrees vehemently.

"No kidding. The fucker would have got more than a few bullets in him." Bobby says. "Jackie do you know why your dad would have wanted him dead?" I shake my head with frustration.

"No." I confess. "The music was too loud, I couldn't hear anything." There's silence for a moment and I wonder briefly if that would end the conversation.

"No one knew you were dealing the drugs tonight did they? I mean, besides this Freddie guy?" Bobby asks. I shrug.

"I don't think so. I mean…there was different dealers all the time. No one cared who it was as long as they got their stuff." I answer.

"So you're in no danger? I mean…no druggies are gonna be looking for ya?" Jerry asks. I think for a moment before shaking my head.

"I don't think so." I tell him. Bobby nods.

"Good, so all we have to worry about is your old man? He don't know where you live, does he?" Bobby questions. I rub my eyes sleepily and yawn.

"I haven't told him. I mean, I hadn't seen him for years before tonight. I don't know if he would even recognize me." I state. Angel closes his eyes, not adding to the conversation.

"But there are ways of finding out where you live? If he really wanted to?" Bobby asks, but is really stating. We're all quiet for a while, and I can feel myself falling asleep.

"We just need to make sure that doesn't happen. Find him before he find Jack." Jerry adds quietly. I can tell he's as tired as I am. Bobby leans against the wall and I lay my head in his lap and pull the covers over me. The four of us are quiet for so long that I think everyone's fallen asleep before Angel speaks up.

"So the whole time Rob was gay?"

---

The breakfast table is quiet since everyone but Ma is still half-asleep. We all slept in my room, in unnatural positions, so our bones are stiff. I'm just glad today's not a school day.

"Jerry what time is basketball practice?" Ma asks, putting a plate of sausage on the table. I don't feel much like eating, so I just push my eggs back and forth on my plate.

"Uh…four." Jerry answers, sounding unsure. I know that Jerry's not going to basketball practice since the three of them have 'plans' for today. Plans that involve finding an 'unknown arsonist' of a government housing building. According to the news there is no witnesses, which is for obvious reasons. No one wants to admit being in a crack house.

"Well, make sure you don't forget then. I have to leave soon to go into work. The four of you will be okay here alone?" Ma asks, straitening out the collar of Angel's shirt.

"Ma, I'm twenty-four." Bobby reminds her. She smiles and pats his shoulder.

"Of course you are sweetheart."

---

I follow Bobby, Jerry, and Angel, out the front door and close it behind me. I start to follow them to the car, but stop when they turn around to stare at me.

"What?" I question curiously. They look at each other and then back at me.

"Jackie, what're ya doing?" Jerry asks impatiently. I look at each of them with confusion.

"Going to the car. Same as you guys." I answer slowly, not sure what this is about. Bobby shakes his head before I'm even done speaking.

"Oh no you're not!" He counters. "You're not going with us."

"What do you mean I'm not going with you?" I exclaim. Angel raises his eyebrows, sensing trouble.

"Jack, there is no way in hell we're letting you come with us to track down a strung out killer!" Jerry states as if it should have been obvious.

"I am too coming with you guys! It's _my_ father! You can't expect me to stay here while you guys track down _my_ dad." I protest. Bobby sighs and looks towards the car.

"Jack, go back inside." He orders. I shake my head stubbornly.

"No way. I'm going with you guys!" I answer. Bobby tells Angel and Jerry to wait in the car, and then turns his attention to me.

"Jack, if I have to carry you in the fucking house I will!" Bobby warns.

"So what!" I answer lackadaisically. "I'll just come after you guys as soon as you leave. I have a better idea of where my dad is then you guys do." His eyes grow angry and he clenches his fists at his side. I can tell I'm really pushing it, but right now I don't care.

"Fine, Jack, fine. You wanna be a bitch about this, then get in the car. But I swear on my life Jack, if you get out of the car or leave my side for any reason, you'll regret it for the rest of your life. You got that?" He threatens angrily. I wrap my arms around his waist and nod vigorously.

"Thank you Bobby!" I say gratefully.

"Yeah, yeah." He answers, less bitterly. "Just remember what I told you."

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	8. Chapter 8

**Note**: Thanks for all the reviews. Keep reading and feel free to be honest in your comments. Warning: there are references to child abuse in this chapter. Keep that in mind. It's nothing too graphic, since I can't write that, but I am just informing you ahead of time. It's the second section if you'd like to skip over it.

_Because the drugs never work_

_They're gonna give you a smirk_

'_cause they got methods of keepin' you clean._

_They're gonna rip up your heads_

_Your aspirations to shreds_

_Another cog in the murder machine._

_-My Chemical Romance_

**I Want a New Drug**

I breathe against the window and draw shapes in the fog, blocking out Angel and Jerry's playful bantering. Bobby is focused intently on the road, making sure he doesn't pass the address I've given him. I haven't actually been to my dad's apartment for years and I don't really look forward to being there again. But since Bobby told me I wasn't allowed out of the car, I'm not too worried about it.

"You're a little bitch, Angel!" Jerry snaps, rubbing the back of his head.

"Will you two please knock it off? Our little brother is acting more mature than the two of you put together." Bobby says, glaring at the two of them.

"Jack _is_ more mature than the two of us put together." Angel reminds him, nudging me lightly. "Watcha thinking about?" I shrug absentmindedly.

"Bobby stop!" I yell suddenly as he drives up to my dad's apartment. He hit's the brakes, making Jerry cuss as he jerks forward.

"Fucking hell Bobby!" He gripes, glowering at him.

"Sorry." He answers unapologetically, shutting off the car. He turns around to face me, giving me a stern look.

"Jack-" He begins. I sigh dramatically.

"I _know_, stay in the car!" I finish for him. He nods, opening the door. Angel and Jerry follow his motion.

"Right, stay here. Keep the door locked at all times, no matter what." He continues, getting out of the car and shutting it behind him. The three of them make there way into the housing complex, in search of apartment number 169.

---

_It's raining and the snow is melting from the heat of my body. I've never been so cold before in my entire life. I curl up to the house as close as possible, wishing more than anything that I could be inside it. I feel the bile burning my throat, and I roll over on my side and vomit. _

_Stop being sick, I mentally beg myself. Stop being sick so you can go back inside. But my throat constricts more violently, my empty stomach lurching painfully. I cry in agony and self-pity, dragging myself back to my spot by the house._

_This is the Moore's house, and I am seven years old. _

Horns honk outside the car doors, but I can't bring myself out of the light sleep. I wish more than anything that I could wake up. I will myself to stop thinking about the past, but my attempts are unsuccessful. The nightmare goes on.

_I can't breathe through my nose since it's too stopped up. It hurts to breathe through my mouth though since my throat is so sore. I revert to taking only sips of air when it's absolutely necessary. _

_Water melts through my sweatshirt and ripped up shoes, soaking my skin. I wonder vaguely if it's all wrinkly like it gets when you stay in the tub too long. The rain from my long hair drips into my eyes, but my hands are too cold to wipe the strands away. _

_Maybe if I don't throw up for twenty more minutes, Garret will let me back inside. Why did I have to get sick on his floor?_

I clutch my eyes shut tighter. I'm awake now and I know I'm awake. I think maybe I've been awake the whole but didn't want to believe I was. Maybe I wanted to believe that these kinds of things only happen in nightmares, but I'm not that stupid. This isn't a nightmare, it's a memory.

I had gotten sick all over my foster father's floor, sending him into a fit of rage. His rage was nothing new, but the cold was. I had never shook so hard in my life.

"_You gonna throw up all over my floor again?" He asks bitterly, looking down on me with disgust. After nearly an hour of shivering without being sick, I had come to beg his forgiveness. To beg him to please let me come back inside. He kicks me off the porch when I don't answer him quickly enough, the blow intensified by the cold. _

"_Stay out there all night then you little shit!"_

I cough loudly and open my eyes. Did I cough in my dream, or for real? I wonder, hoping it was the former. Ma would have a fit if she found out I was outside with a cold. I smile fondly at the thought of Ma reprimanding for Bobby bringing me home sick, trying not to think of how the rest of the 'nightmare' goes. How I spent the whole night outside, shaking with such fever I thought I was going freeze to death. I try not to think about how I only stopped crying when my body grew too weak to produce tears. It was just a dream, I tell myself, wishing more than anything that I had a shot of something.

---

"Damn bastard isn't here." Bobby announces, shoving himself into the car and driving off. "We checked every fucking room in the building and got nothing." He passes a quick look at me, he doesn't think I see, through the rearview mirror.

"You okay back there?" He asks with concern. All three of them look at me suspiciously.

"Yeah, fine." I answer as believably as possible. Jerry mutters something about me not looking fine, and Angel puts his hand to my forehead.

"Stop!" I yell hastily, shoving his hand off of me.

"Damn Jackie, who pissed in your Cheerios?" Jerry questions sarcastically, ignoring Bobby's cynical look.

"He feels warm." Angel comments, looking at me strangely.

"You didn't get out of the car, did you?" Jerry accuses warningly. I lean my head against the glass window, mimicking my earlier motions.

"No, I didn't leave the car! And I'm fine!" I state angrily.

"Maybe we should take you home." Angel suggests. I glare at him meanly.

"I said. I'm. fine." I cut in before Jerry or Bobby can agree. Sometimes having brothers can be a real pain in the ass. "There's a few other places my dad could be."

"I really wish you would stop calling him that." Jerry admits. I slump back in the seat and cross my arms over my chest.

"Fine. There's a few other places _Rhett Michaels _could be." I emphasize.

"Well, Ma will be home soon. Maybe we should call it a day?" Angel suggests. Jerry nods agreeably.

"Bobby man, what's up with you? Why aren't you talking and why are you looking at me that way?" Jerry asks to Bobby's amused expression.

"_Who pissed in your Cheerios_?" He questions. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

---

Bobby, Jerry, Angel, and I stare at the dozen cop cars with shocked curiosity. We had noticed the cars as soon as we pull onto our street, but it wasn't until we were a block away that we saw they were in _our_ driveway. Between fifteen and twenty cops surround our house, with guns pointed at all possible exits. Bobby shuts the car off and steps out slowly. I open the door to get a better look.

"Jack, stay in the car!" Bobby orders. "You too Angel." I'm too confused to argue with him, so I sit back down in the seat and shut the door.

"Bobby! Jerry, are you guys okay?" Ma calls, running down the sidewalk to greet us. I silently let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I feel safe with my brothers, but with Ma I feel almost invincible.

"Ma, what's going on?" Bobby asks, not answering her question. She engulfs him and Jerry in a hug, and then turns to Angel and I.

"Oh thank God you guys are okay!" She exclaims, fussing over us.

"We're okay Ma." Bobby assures her. "What's going on?" She looks to our house with a frightful expression, staring at the cop holding a bullhorn.

"Rhett Michaels!" He bellows. "Come out of the house with your hands in the air! I repeat: Come out of the house with your hands in the air! If you refuse to consent, we will be forced to open fire!"

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	9. Chapter 9

**Note**: Thanks to all the faithful readers of this story. I apologize for the slight delay, and for the apparent cliffhanger. I really don't plan these things out. They just happen.

_Give me back my point of view_

_'Cause I just can't think for you_

_I can hardly hear you say_

_What should I do, well you choose_

_Oh, look what you've done_

_You've made a fool of everyone_

_Oh well, it seems likes such fun_

_Until you lose what you had won_

_-Jet_

**I Want a New Drug**

From the time the officer gives his command, to the time Rhett Michaels comes out screaming, seems like hours. Indeed it was only a matter of minutes, but when you're holding your breath time seems to stretch on. Seeing my father surrounded by cops overwhelms me with mixed emotions.

"I want my son!" He screams over and over as an officer cuffs him and shoves him into the back of the police car. He's talking about me, I think, _I'm_ his son. Really the thought is foreign to me, since it's been so long since I've thought of myself as somebody's son besides Ma's. To me it feels almost as if I've always lived with Ma and that I was always her son.

Several cops rush into our house, and two approach Ma, Bobby, and Jerry, explaining to them what happened. I remain still, paralyzed in my seat, next to Angel.

"Hey…hey Jackie, are you okay?" Angel asks, leaning over to look me in the eyes. I remember all the times Rhett asked me that same question. It was normally followed with 'I love you' or 'I would never hurt you'. Don't think of that, I order myself.

"M' fine Angel," I answer quietly. I think guiltily about what would have happened if Ma was home when Rhett broke in. What could have happened if my brothers were home. They could have been hurt or killed because of me. Angel looks like he wants to say something else, but is interrupted by a cop opening the car door.

"Jack Mercer? I'm officer Moro. I need to ask you a few questions. Is that okay?" He asks holding out his hand.

"Do I have a choice?" I croak out unsteadily. A grin breaks out across his face as he lets his hand drop back down to his side. He gives a glance at Angel, and then at Bobby and Jerry.

"Well, your big brothers have quite a record in this city. I wouldn't want to deal with them if I was caught forcing you to do something you didn't want to," The officer states. He looks over his shoulder at Ma and lets his voice drop a few notches. "And between you and me, your mother can be quite intimidating when she wants to be."

"Okay then," I answer smiling, "what do you want to know?"

---

The interview lasts for nearly two hours at the police station. After it is finally over, they tell us that our house is safe to go home to. Ma decides we should go out to eat tonight, try to get our minds off of the drama of the day. We all readily agree, though I doubt even food will make us forget how close things came to being fatal.

"Jack, try to eat something honey," Ma encourages from across the table. "You haven't eaten much of anything lately." I force down a bite of hamburger and feel it settle shakily in my empty stomach. I silently will myself not to be sick.

"Hey, Jack, what's wrong? Have you not noticed all the hot waitresses in this place?" Jerry says jokingly. Of course, he's being serious as well. He, Angel, and Bobby have hardly stopped flirting the whole time we've been here.

"The one in the blue dress," Angel states, pointing his fork to a waitress at another table. Ma rolls her eyes playfully.

"Dude, isn't that Audrey's sister?" Bobby muses. "Audrey….Willingham?" Jerry groans.

"Ah man, it is. I hated that bitch. She always got me in trouble in Chemistry," Jerry complains, his eyes narrowing at the memory.

"Jerry! Watch your language. And don't talk about people, especially not when their sisters can hear you," Ma admonishes sternly. Jerry gives her an apologetic look, then winks when the girl in the blue dress walks by.

"Mom…do I have to testify?" I whine. "I really don't want to. And I mean, they arrested Dad, I mean Rhett, on breaking and entering. Why do I have to testify in court?" Ma looks at me sympathetically.

"Because Jackie, they need a witness that can testify that he was the shooter. They promised to drop all drug charges as long as you testify, and plus this way they can hook child abuse on his sentence as well. At the least he'll get life, but he could even get the death penalty. God knows that's what he deserves. And if you don't testify, he may only go to jail for six years. He killed innocent people Jack-" Bobby lectures. Ma stops him with a glare.

"That's enough Bobby," She orders. "Jack it's important that you testify against Rhett, sweetheart. Breaking and entering is hardly the worst-"

"Freddie and Joseph Baron were hardly innocent Bobby! It's not like he killed a pregnant woman or anything. Besides, what he did to me, I deserved most of that. You may not think so, but you weren't there Bobby. None of you were! I wasn't a good kid. I was stupid and disobedient. I couldn't do anything right-" I argue. Ma takes my hand in hers, and Bobby shakes his head furiously.

"I can't believe I'm even hearing this!" Bobby yells. "Jack…Jack you didn't deserve what that bastard did to you. It doesn't matter how 'stupid' you were, or 'bad' or whatever the hell he brainwashed you to think. No kid deserves that!"

"Yeah, Jack, what that guy did to you was not cool. It was wrong, man." Angel agrees. I push my chair back from the table, noticing the looks we're getting from the other customers.

"Whatever. You guys don't know anything." I answer harshly. "I'll just take my chance with the drug charges. I'm twelve. That means I can't go to prison and it's not like they even have proof. They know I was at the place, but so what? All the drugs were burned!"

"Jack why are taking up for this guy? Why are you willing to let him get away with killing people? With hurting you?" Bobby nearly screams. I stand up and fling my plate to the ground angrily. It bursts into pieces, scaring the people sitting near us.

"Because he's my father Bobby!" I scream tearfully. "Because he's my fucking father and I love him! Why can't you guys understand that? I-" I breathe in deeply and fist my hair in my hands. "I love him, alright? I do."

---

I stare at my bedroom ceiling and think over and over again how stupid I am. How can I love someone like Rhett Michaels? How can I be dumb enough to think that someone like Rhett Michaels could love _me_?

I have everything I've always wanted. A home, a family, even friends however few and far between. Why do I always have to complicate things? A knock at my door startles me out of my self-pity, and I look up to see Bobby, Jerry, and Angel, staring at me, sticks in hand.

"We're gonna go play some hockey. Wanna come?" Bobby asks as if everything is perfectly fine. I can't help but laugh.

"Is that you guys' cure for everything? Hockey?" I question amusedly. Jerry shrugs.

"Well, we're simpleminded people." He tells me. I just stare at them for a good ten seconds before standing up and grabbing my coat.

"Fine. Just give me a second to put on my shoes."

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	10. Chapter 10

_And everyone's looking for relief,  
A bidding war for an old flame's grief,  
The cause, the kid, the course, the charm and the curse,  
Not a word that could make you comprehend,  
Too well dressed for the witness stand,  
The press prays for whichever headline's worse _

_-Fall Out Boy, You're Crashing but You're no Wave_

**I Want a New Drug**

Angel and Jerry are on one team, and Bobby and I on the other. This is for obvious reasons. Jerry and Angel are equal in skill, whereas Bobby is almost a hundred times better than me. This way the teams equal out.

"Hold up, hold up! Before we start, let's make some bets," Jerry declares, passing a look to Angel and Bobby. I try to get on what they're planning, but as always they leave me out.

"Alright Jer, let's hear what you have," Bobby states, considering Jerry's idea. I huff with impatience knowing this is just going to make the game even more competitive and painful than it normally is.

"So, Angel and I were thinking…"Jerry starts, gesturing to his teammate.

"Jerry, what've I told you about that? You could kill yourself if you start thinking too hard." Bobby jokes with mock seriousness. Jerry flicks him off and continues his speech.

"Back to what I was saying before being so rudely interrupted by the guy who flunked gym class," Jerry bites back. Bobby holds his hands in the air, raising his stick off the ground.

"Whoa, wait a minute! Must I remind you of the reasons why I flunked gym class?" Bobby answers smugly. Angel whistles, ending the argument.

"Guys, can we get on with the bet?" He asks with annoyance.

"Right, the bet. Thank you Angel for so kindly reminding me of my point," Jerry says with exaggerated gratitude. I sit down on the pavement, knowing it could be a while before we actually start playing.

"Oh _please_, give me a break! I think you're just stalling 'cause you're afraid of getting your asses kicked by me and our baby brother!" Bobby taunts. Jerry gives him a cynical look, ready to come back with a snide remark.

"C'mon you guys!" I whine with aggravation. "Can we just get this over with?"

"Alright, here's the deal," Angel finally takes over, tired of the unending bantering. "If you and Jack win, then Jerry and I will take care of all the chores for a month."

"Alright, sounds good," Bobby agrees. "And if you and Jerry win?"

"If me n' Jerry win, then Jackie has to testify at Rhett's trial." Angel finishes.

"What? Now way!" I vehemently disagree. I should have known there was a reason for the sudden hockey game. "That's not even a far deal!"

"I think it is!" Bobby counters. "It's a deal."

"Oh no it's not!" I exclaim, standing up to join their group. "If you guys make that deal, then Bobby isn't going to play at all! It'll be like…me versus the three of you!" The three of them give each other satisfied looks.

"Bingo!" Jerry yells, picking up his stick.

"Wow, Jack, I must say you're pretty smart to figure that out all on your own," Angel tells me sarcastically.

"Bobby…you're supposed to be my teammate! You're so siding with the other team!" I argue with mounting frustration. I'm obviously losing this fight.

"No…I'm supposed to be your big brother. That means I make you do things even if you don't want to. It's called tough love." Bobby tells me, slapping my shoulder. "Alright, our puck!" I drag my feet to our side of the blacktop and glare at Bobby. He smirks with amusement.

"Hey, look on the bright side Jackie," He tells me. "At least it's not ice."

---

"You know Bobby, you could at least _pretend_ like you're helping me," I state, dragging my stick back to the starting line. Bobby decided he was going to be goalie, since he had a 'hurt foot'. In other words, he just stands there.

"Yeah but…what would be the point?" Bobby asks, sitting down.

"You guys, this is ridiculous," I complain, watching as Jerry scores yet another goal.

"C'mon Jack, you're doing good. We're only down by thirty-three points. We can still win," Bobby says with false encouragement.

"_We? _I'msorry Bobby, did you just say _we_, because really….this…is not a team effort," I tell him off. Bobby shrugs.

"Oh I'm sorry. I meant _you_," He corrects. I drop my stick and lay down on the gravel.

"Don't slack off on me now Jackie," Bobby calls from the goal. I place my hands over my face and feel like screaming.

"Fine! Fine I'll testify!" I say, giving up. The three of them plop down beside me.

"How long did it take?" Jerry asks Bobby tauntingly.

"Alright, you were right, it took more than twenty minutes for him to give up," Bobby admits.

"I believe that means you owe us ten bucks." Jerry states with an 'I-told-you-so' attitude. I shake my head unbelievingly and glare at them.

"I can't believe you guys," I muse aloud. "I can't believe you guys bet on how long it would take for me to give up."

"Yeah well," Bobby answers, helping me to my feet. "Don't tell Ma."

---

Our lawyer, Mr. Kirby, comes over our house at eleven the next morning and tells me everything I should be prepared to be asked. Things about my record, about my relationship with my dad and Freddie, and about why I was at Freddie's house on the night of the fire. He reiterates a certain fact over and over until it is ingrained in my head;

"You can't lie on stand," He tells me sternly. "This is important. If you lie on stand, then your testimony goes to hell. You understand that Jack?" I nod and click the pen he gave me to write notes with.

"Jack, are you listening to Mr. Kirby? This is important," Ma says seriously. I nod again and clear my throat nervously.

"M' listening," I whisper. Mr. Kirby cranes his neck so that he can look me in the eyes.

"Jack…you have nothing to be afraid of. I know this is hard, but it'll soon be over. In two months your father will be convicted and put away for good. You won't ever have to worry about him again," He assures me. I can't help but think how ignorant he is. Of course I'll still worry about him. Of course it won't all be over. It'll never be over.

"Thanks," I mumble. Mr. Kirby stands up and shakes hands with Ma and my brothers as I stare down at the drawlings I've made on the little notepad. Across it I've written;

_I will not lie_

_I will not lie_

_I will not lie_

But I know that's not completely true. There are some things people just don't need to know about.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Note**: You guys still there? Probably busy with holiday affairs; I understand the lack of time. Thanks for reading. Advice of any kind is always welcome.

_There's a hole in the world like a great black pit_

_and it's filled with people who are filled with shit _

_and the vermin of the world inhabit it- _

_but not for long! They all deserve to die!_

_-Sweeny Todd _

**I Want a New Drug**

I'm testifying against Rhett Michaels in less than two months. It's strange to me that ten words should scare me so much. No matter how many times Ma or my brothers or the cops assure me that nothing can happen to me, I still can't help feeling nauseous just thinking about it.

Sometimes when people get into tough situations such as these, they think, 'I wish I was a kid again'. I guess that makes me different from most people for two reasons; I still am a kid, and if I wasn't I certainly wouldn't want to be one again. What I do wish is that I hadn't agreed to sell drugs for Freddie, that I hadn't went gallivanting to his shitty apartment at two in the morning, and that I hadn't been dumb enough to climb out that window with Danny. It was obviously fate; I should have died in that building.

Oh yeah, and I wish I had something to pop, snort, or shoot up. Sure Bobby or Angel or Jerry will come into my room every few days or so making sure I don't have any drugs, but I could still get it. Sure Freddie is dead and the whole Southside is raving over it, but there are other dealers. But for the first time in my life I have people who hold me to higher standards. People who would care if they found me drugged up on some weekday when I should be at school. People who would be disappointed. And my craving isn't as strong as all _that_.

I mean, the only reason I'm in my room now, staring at the ceiling until spots form when I blink, is because I stayed out late with Danny last night. We had lost track of time and Ma and my brothers had been worried when I finally trudged in at midnight with Danny behind me. Luckily Ma encouraged Danny to stay the night, so all lectures and punishments where put off until today. Ma said I couldn't leave my room for the next few days, but Bobby wasn't so easy on me. His blood was practically boiling when he told me he expected me in the house by eight every night until the trial. I guess I can't blame him though, with all the angry drug dealers and drug buyers more than eager to off the son of Freddie's murderer.

I'm pulled out of my lethargic state by a knock at my window. I sit up and blink hard, rubbing away the dots that cloud my vision. I walk over to the window, shaking my head when I see Cannon sitting uncomfortably on the rooftop. This couldn't be happening.

"Dude, you know, we do have a front door? You could have just knocked," I inform him, trying to act friendly. He gives me a grim look.

"Yeah, well, Danny said you got into some trouble with your mom or some shit, so I thought I'd play the charming prince role," He answers sarcastically, steadying himself uneasily.

"Really Cannon, you're the last person I would have expected to seeing playing the…what did you call it…the charming prince role?" I inform Freddie's old partner. "Hell, how the fuck did you even get up here?"

"Fuck you Jack. I climbed up the damn guard rail. Now are ya coming or not?" I look over my shoulder at the closed bedroom door.

"Coming where?" I ask unsteadily, not liking the idea of sneaking out. After all, look where it got me last time.

"Man, see, you got me off topic! There's this rave going on down in Windsor later on. A helluva a lot of hot chicks will be there. Not to mention every-" I shush him with my hand when I hear footsteps walk by my door.

"Jack?" I hear Angel call, tapping on the door lightly. I shove my curtains over my windows and hurriedly place myself on my bed.

"Yeah Ang?" I call back, mentally wincing when he opens the door.

"Doing laundry," He states. "You have anything ya want me to wash?" I stare at him blankly, processing the question. If I say no, he might get suspicious. None of us pass up the opportunity to have someone else do our laundry. But if I say yes, then I have to get the basket by the window, which-

"Why is it so fucking cold in here man?" He asks suddenly, breaking up my mental argument. I swallow nervously. Shit.

"Uh…just had the window open for a second. Needed air," I explain hurriedly, ignoring the look he gives me. He walks over to the window, eyeing it suspiciously, and picks up the basket of clothes.

"I swear I have the weirdest little brother on the face of the planet. Who needs 'air' in fucking December?" Angel talks to himself as he leaves the room. I close the door, composing myself before pulling the curtains back to reveal an amused Cannon.

"Dude you have to be the worst actor I've ever known," He declares between laughs.

"Yeah, yeah, just tell me when and where," I state gruffly, smirking inside at the irony of his statement.

"I'll pick you up on the corner of Forth and Fifth at ten oh clock," He tells me. I nod once, telling him I consent, and shut the window back. Then I yank open my dresser drawer searching vigorously for the card of Officer Moro. I feel a rush of relief upon finding it, sneaking a glance out my bedroom door before making my way into Ma's room. Luckily she had to work today. I pick up her phone off her nightstand and dial the number on the card.

"Officer Moro, how can I help you?" Comes his voice after the second ring. I take a deep breath before answering.

"Officer, It's Jack Mercer," I tell him. "I'm calling to report murder suspect." I can visualize him gather a pencil and paper in hand, and smile at his straightforward tone. Officer Moro is the only cop that's ever treated me like an adult.

"Who is it, and where can I find them?" He asks seriously. I clutch the phone tighter when I hear footsteps walk past Ma's door. Luckily they move on without intrusion.

"His name is Alex Cane, but everyone calls him Cannon. You can find him at the corner of Fourth and Fifth Avenue at ten oh clock tonight," I answer. I can hear him sigh and I know he's taking it all in.

"Who do you think he's killed, Jack?' The officer questions.

'It's not about who he's killed, but who he's _going_ to kill," I correct. I can almost hear his pen scribbling this information down.

"This is important Jack. Who's he going to kill?" He asks worriedly. A chill runs through me and I wonder foolishly if Officer Moro felt it as well.

"Me," I state coldly. "He's going to kill me."

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	12. Chapter 12

**Note**: Thanks for all the reviews and alerts. There is some language in this chapter. I hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas.

_He blew his mind out in a car;  
He didn't notice that the lights had changed.  
A crowd of people stood and stared;  
They'd seen his face before;  
Nobody was really sure  
If he was from the House of Lords._

_-The Beatles _

**I Want a New Drug**

To say that Ma wasn't pleased with Officer Moro's plan is an understatement. She and Bobby had been especially adamant about me not showing up to meet Cannon. While Angel had commented that me showing up to my own death was 'totally James Bond like', the rest of them thought the danger involved was too great a risk. In the end though Moro had explained how he couldn't arrest Cannon for attempted murder if he hadn't attempted anything, and how he guarantied that I would be safe.

"After all," He had reminded them jokingly, "If something happens to him you could always sue." They hadn't appreciated the gesture.

"I'm getting off the subway," I whisper as clearly as possible. Luckily the subway is loud or else people might think I'm talking to myself. Hell, I think, it's nothing worse than I already do. I walk through the opened doors, the sense of déjà vu flooding me as the cold wind rips at my clothes.

"Good, Jack. Keep talking," Moro urges in my ear. I press the ear piece uncomfortably.

"People already think I'm crazy, Moro. And now I'm talking to people who aren't there…oh as I walk up the subway stairs," I say sarcastically. Moro and the other officers had made it very clear how important it was that I tell them everything I'm doing as I'm doing it. Especially in cases like now when they couldn't see me.

"Jack, everyone has those little cell phone earpieces these days. No one will even give you a second glance," He reassures.

"I can see ya Jack," Another officer, Mickey, says into my ear. I have to force myself not to look around for him, since that would look too suspicion. Cannon isn't all that bright, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

"You see Cannon, kid?" Mickey asks. I grit my teeth and bite back a comment at being called 'kid'. I look around slowly for Cannon, and see him smoking easily on the corner, cigarette in hand.

"Yeah," I answer excitedly, "Green jacket." Angel's right, this is kind of like a James Bond movie. And who doesn't want to be like James Bond?

"Hey Jackie-O," Cannon says sly through puffs of smoke. "Nice night."

"Yeah. You, uh, ready?" I ask, ready to get straight to the point. He nods, flicking the cigarette on the ground.

"Windsor is a few minutes away. We'll take my car," He informs me, already leading the way.

"Jack, suggest the subway," Moro demands somewhat nervously. I clear my throat to catch Cannon's attention.

"Why don't we just take the subway? It's quicker with the traffic and all," I tell him, trying to sound casual. He shakes his head and keeps walking.

"Cost money. And dude my car is only a block over," He states.

"Tell him your mom will be home soon. That you don't have a lot of time," Moro orders. I relay the information to Cannon, who gives me a cold glare.

"Look man, it won't take long. We're halfway to the car," He argues. I shake my head stubbornly.

"The subway's right here Cannon. It's quicker, you know it is. I really don't have that long," I answer. He looks ready to complain but tugs me towards the subway instead.

"Fuck it then, we'll take the goddamned subway," he gripes.

---

Windsor is incredibly quiet once we get off the subway, with few people still on the streets. As soon as we leave the protection of the tunnel I feel the anticipation gnawing at my stomach. It's like all those times when I was little and my various foster parents came home drunk. Knowing something bad was going to happen and not knowing if I was going to be able to handle it.

"Look man, don't look so nervous," Cannon smiles, squeezing my shoulder. "I'm sure your mom won't even know you were gone." I try to smile back, but it doesn't reach my eyes. Luckily for me, Cannon isn't one to notice details.

"Yo Can!" A voice yells from across the street. Cannon gives a nod that I know means, 'this is him'. The guy makes his way over to us bending down against the wind.

"Who is that, Jack? You know that guy?" Mickey asks in my ear. I shake my head, hoping he can see me. He was supposed to be in Windsor where the subway exit is.

"No? Well, no matter what Jack, don't get into a vehicle with them," He orders. I roll my eyes. How dumb does he think I am?

"Who's the kid?" The guy asks, pretending not to know. I give him a friendly look as Cannon introduces us.

"This is a friend, Jack. Jack this is Paul." Cannon tells me. Paul my ass.

"Well then, lets get going shall we?" Paul recommends, walking ahead of us.

"It's at his place," Cannon informs me. I shake my head once again. A rave at a person's house. Rarely did that happen, unless the invite list was really small. The two of us follow him quietly; both for different reasons.

---

We reach his house in I-don't-know-how-many-minutes. All I could pay attention to was the voice in my head (and in my ear) and the car that I hoped like hell was following me.

"Aright, this is it," Paul says, passing a knowing look to Cannon. I pretend not to suspect anything as I follow them through the front door and into the living room.

"Okay Jack, in ten seconds the entire house will be surrounded. The second any threats are made, we're coming in after you. You're doing good, just hang in there," Moro tells me. I swallow hard but don't say anything.

"Jack? Jack Michaels?" A red-haired man asks from the couch. I stay in act as best I can as I sit on the chair and remind myself that I do have a gun. And a bullet proof vest, but that won't protect me if they shoot me in the head.

"Actually it's Mercer now, didn't ya hear?" Cannon asks from behind me.

"Please tell me this isn't the rave Can, or I'm gonna be thoroughly disappointed," I say smartly. He smirks and walks to stand beside the redhead.

"Oh this is it, Jackie. This is the rave," He tells me seriously.

"You know Jack…a lot of people were pretty upset about Freddie's murder," Paul informs me like I didn't know. I nod and sigh.

"Yeah well, I guess the one good thing Rhett Michaels did in his lifetime was kill the bastard," I answer before I can stop it. The three of them turn angry eyes on me.

"Jack! Don't antagonize them!" Moro shouts, but I pay him no mind.

"Actually, it was almost worth dealing with his shit for all those years, just to see him finally send that scum bag to hell," I keep outwardly dwelling. Paul picks me up by my jacket and flings me against the wall.

"Freddie was my uncle you piece of shit!" He yells. I don't even notice the stinging in my back and shoulder. I casually stand up and look at him.

"Yeah you do have that I-like-to-fuck-little-kids look to ya," I state. He smashes his fist into my jaw and kicks me to the ground.

"You little fucker!" He screams. "Kill him! Kill him!" Cannon pulls a gun out of his jacket and aims it at me.

"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree," He says menacingly, cocking the gun. His act is interrupted by screaming men in police uniforms.

"Put your fucking hands in the air!"

"Drop the weapon!"

"We will shoot!"

Slowly, Cannon turns to face the officers, raising his left hand in the air.

"Drop the gun kid!" An officer shouts. And the gun does drop from his hand; but not before he's killed Officer Moro and himself.

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	13. Chapter 13

**Note**: Thanks to those of you who continue to read/review this story. I'm glad each of you are enjoying it. Feel free to ask questions/make comments if your find anything confusing.

" '_Spiders," Tyler says, "could lay their eggs and larva could tunnel under your skin. That's how bad your life can get.' "_

_-__Fight Club_

**I Want a New Drug**

And that is that. Officer Moro is dead, Cannon is dead, and Freddie is dead. I still have a trial to testify at in a little over a month, and now I have a funeral to attend in two days. Luckily they don't need me as a witness for Paul and the redhead's trial since there were so many cops there when Moro was murdered.

For me Moro's death is a blur. One second he was shouting things into my ear, and the next he was dead. After Cannon committed suicide the other officers called for an ambulance and arrested the two 'conspirators'. To me it seemed pointless. I knew officer Moro was dead the moment the bullet hit him. I liked him too much for him to live. That's just how my life is.

I can't help but feel that the whole night was my fault. After all I had been the one who called Moro, who had brought him into the 'James Bond' plan. I should have just went out there on my own. I should have just let Cannon kill me. My life isn't worth near as much as Moro's was. But I had to be selfish and cowardly. I had to pull someone else into my shit since I couldn't deal with it myself. Why did my father always have to be right?

"You know Jack, it's kind of pointless being here if ya' aren't even gonna watch the movie," Bobby tries to state sarcastically. It really comes out more concerned. He, Angel, and Jerry had thought it would be a good idea to get out of the house and get our minds off things. But since all I can do is sulk like an angst-full teenager, it's not working out as planned.

"I am watching it," I reply defensively. I seem to be on the defense with everyone lately. Get them before they get me. In actuality I kind of wish I could just curl up into a ball and cry into them. To tell them I'm sorry a million times over. Suck it up Jack, I tell myself impatiently, you're not a little kid.

"Alright fine," He answers in his I'm-pretending-I-don't-care tone.

"Hey…Psht, hey Jackie," Jerry calls in a not-so-quiet whisper, kicking the back of my seat.

"Jerry…what do you want? People are trying to watch the movie!" I answer back in an even more not-so-quiet whisper. He looks around to the people beside him and Angel and mouths 'sorry'.

"Jack…how far can you throw?" He continues. His bizarre question gains the attention of me, Angel, _and_ Bobby.

"I…what do you mean how far can I throw?" I ask back. He gives me an exaggerated 'duh' look like it should be obvious.

"You ever play baseball?" He questions. I shake my head no to which he hands me a handful of popcorn anyways.

"See that woman up there?" He says pointing. The three of us look in the direction of his pointed finger. "The fat one with the big ass head? Can you hit her with that? I can't see a damn thing and my aim sucks," I look at him amazed but Angel and Bobby nod understandingly.

"Are you kidding me? I can't hit her with a handful of popcorn!" I exclaim. I swear sometimes my brothers are insane. He groans getting shushed by the people beside him.

"I'll do it!" Angel volunteers, grabbing a handful out of the bag.

"No Angel! Don't! You'll get us kicked out!" I hiss, also gaining some evil glares from other audience members.

"So what, it's a boring movie anyways," Jerry answers.

"If it's boring then why do you need to _see _it?" I ask back exasperatedly.

"Because I deserve the right to watch a crappy movie, same as everyone else!" He declares stubbornly.

"Here goes!" Angel warns, flinging the popcorn in the direction of the lady. It falls a row short, hitting an elderly couple instead. They turn around and glare in our direction sharply as I lower myself deeper into my seat.

"Angel! What the hell was that? Jerry, give me the bag. Let big brother show you how it's done," Bobby orders cockily. He takes the bag from Jerry and flings the whole thing at the lady's head. While some of it hits her, most of it spills out before making it there, spilling over teenagers, little kids, and parents.

"Hey! Who the fuck threw that?" A kid around Jerry's age yells. I stifle a laugh, but my brothers don't bother to hide theirs.

"You fucking-" The kid hollers at us, grabbing what seems like his girlfriend's coke. He throws it at us, causing it to spill all over _me_ and the preteens beside me. The sticky liquid runs down my face from my hair, and I wipe it out of my eyes no longer able to keep from laughing. By now the whole theater is watching the action, some joining in on it. Random candy, popcorn, and drinks are being fired off, while mothers run to the doors with their young kids in hand.

"Bombs away!" Angel yells in pure enthusiasm as a large bucket of popcorn flies over our heads. The four of us are practically on the floor laughing our heads off when it hits an old man in a business suit. Instead of yelling, the man picks it up, ready to launch back out into the crowd.

"Stop! Everybody out! Now!" A security worker screams, barging through the doors. It becomes silent, except for a few laughs here and there, as the man shakes his head in disgust.

"I want all of you out of here!" He bellows. I look around at the trashed movie house, the laughing kids, and the soda-soaked teenagers. My brothers did this, I think proudly, how many kids have big brothers who can cause all _this_?

---

Ma wasn't the least bit upset when we came home wet with soda and banned from the local movie house. Actually all she said was,

"Another one? That's the third movie theater that's told you not to come back."

"Yeah well, we paid eight dollars to be entertained. And that movie sure as hell wasn't entertaining us," Bobby had explained logically. She had only laughed and asked what we wanted for dinner.

"You know, Christmas is almost here," Bobby says randomly at dinner. The four of us nod vaguely. Ma stops eating and touches my hand.

"Yeah, it'll be Jack's first Christmas with us." Ma reminds them. I try to shrug it off, but they'll have none of it.

"Damn, that's right! I didn't even remember that," Jerry comments, shoving his food in his mouth. Ma scowls.

"Jerry, eat slower honey. It's not going to disappear," Made chides amusedly.

"Yeah man, it feels like Jackie's been here forever," Angel agrees. I open my mouth to tell him not to call me that, that I hate being called that, but then I decide to let it go. If only this one time.

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	14. Chapter 14

**Note**: I apologize if it seems like I've been slacking off. I hope this chapter makes up for it.

**I Want a New Drug**

I help Ma decorate the Christmas tree, which I have never done before. I can't help but feel a sense of pride when we've finished it, despite Bobby and Jerry's remarks about it being a 'sissy' thing that guys didn't do. Angel had glared at them and helped me a little before being distracted by _A Christmas Carol_.

"Why isn't there anything on the fucking T.V? All there is, is Christmas movies followed by Christmas commercials!" Bobby complains. Ma glares at him from the kitchen.

"Bobby, language. And Christmas is in two days. Of course there's only Christmas programs on T.V," She answers. Jerry props his feet up on the coffee table and tosses a ball of cookie dough into his mouth.

"Turn it back to _A Christmas Carol_, man. I was watching that," Angel whines.

"_A Christmas Carol_? Are you kidding me? It's fucking low budget, old, unlikely, predictable, and old," Bobby answers snidely, continuing to flip the channels.

"You already said old," I tell him.

"Did I say you could talk?" Bobby asks jokingly. I roll my eyes and go back to playing Solitaire.

"He's right, you did already say old," Jerry agrees.

"Okay, whose side are you on, Jer? And really, that's besides the point. Just because I said old twice doesn't make it any better of a movie," He states. Angel huffs in exaggerated annoyance and throws a peanut at Bobby.

"Change it back Bobby. I was watching T.V first," Angel demands with no real conviction. We all know Bobby's not going to change it back.

"Yeah change it back, Bobby. I want to watch it too," I side with Angel. I for one have never seen the movie, so I wouldn't know if it's any of those things Bobby says. The only Christmas movie I've ever seen is _Frosty the Snowman_ when I was really little.

"You know Jack, it really doesn't surprise me that you would want to watch a fairy movie like_ A Christmas Carol_," Bobby remarks.

"Mom!" Angel calls. "Bobby is being mean to me and Jack!" I laugh at his child-like attitude. Ma walks into the living room and looks at Bobby, pointing her finger.

"Bobby Mercer, be nice to your brothers!" She orders. Bobby puts on an innocent face and turns to Jerry.

"I wasn't being mean to them. Jerry, was I being mean to our little brothers?" Bobby asks with mock-sincerity. She shakes her head and smiles at Angel and I.

"Bobby, the kitchen isn't that far away," She chides softly, walking back towards the kitchen. "By the way, dinner's almost ready. Cookies too if Jerry hasn't eaten all the dough."

* * *

Christmas morning is loud and hectic. The phone is ringing off the hook from Ma's friends and co-workers. She's inviting a bunch of them to dinner, including a lady Jerry calls Cruella Devil. Ma's friend Julia comes by to help her with cooking, bringing her nine-year old daughter with her. 

"Is this yours?" The girl asks, gesturing to the guitar Bobby bought me for Christmas. I nod distractively, watching the hockey game my brothers put on T.V. Before I moved here I knew nothing about hockey, other than it was played on ice. Now I know all the rules and find it almost addicting to watch.

"Can ya play?" She nags. "Play something, please? Please play something. Oh I know, play _Jingle Bells_! No…play _We Wish You a Merry Christmas_. Please play a song!"

"I'm trying to watch this," I tell her sharply, hoping she'll go away. No such luck.

"Play a song, then you can watch this. I'll leave you alone and everything," She whines.

"Jack, just play her a fuc-I mean, a song already so she'll shut up," Angel begs, trying hard to keep from cussing.

"You play her a song! I don't know Christmas music," I answer back through gritted teeth. I remember now why I really don't like kids.

The phone rings and Ma yells for someone to answer it. Of course my brothers are too lazy to get off the couch, which leaves me to answer the phone like always. I wish I had a little brother to order around, I think. Then I look at the nine-year old again and take back my wish.

"Jack pick up the goddamned phone!" Bobby barks. I bite back all smart remarks and answer the phone.

"Hello?" I answer into the receiver, almost glad to be away from the obnoxious little girl. Thank God Ma didn't decide to adopt three girls before me…

"Jack?" The voice on the other end asks with surprise. I look over my shoulder, making sure I don't have the attention of anyone around.

"Da-" I begin answering. I stop suddenly.

"Jack, I know you probably hate me, and you probably don't want to talk to me, but I want to wish you a merry Christmas. I'd really like to see you, if you'd come up here…" He tells me. I feel my tongue swell and I try hard to hold back tears.

"Why are you calling me? Why are you _really_ calling me, I guess I should ask?" I state coldly. I won't let him know how much he affects me.

"You're my son Jack. I love you. You know that don't you?" He answers. Just like old times, I think. Just like when I was a kid. I nearly jump through the roof when Ma places her hand on my shoulder.

"It's just me Jack. Are you okay?" She asks worriedly. I nod my response. "Who are you talking to?" My brothers are staring at me from the living room curiously.

"Jack…answer me son," Rhett demands. I cradle the phone close and sigh.

"Rhett…I have to go," I answer both of them, hanging up the phone.

"Son of a bitch!" Bobby yells.

* * *

"Stop Bobby, it's Christmas! You're not going on one of your little rampages when it's fourteen degrees outside and snowing," Ma demands. Bobby doesn't even stop moving to answer her. He grabs his coat and shoves it over his arms. 

"I'm a grown man Ma, I'll do whatever the fuck I want!" He relents. Julia's eyes grow wide and shift to her daughter.

"Bobby Mercer you will not speak to me that way!" Ma orders, sending an apologetic look to her friend. "We are eating dinner soon. You will not let this man ruin our Christmas."

"Sorry Ma, but it's too late. He ruined it when he decided to call my kid brother and act like he had the right to talk to him," Bobby answers stubbornly. Jerry and Angel stand off to the side, not knowing whose side to take.

"Bobby please-" I beg, but he stops me with a look.

"Don't start Jack. I've had enough of that man! He has no right to call here!" He states angrily.

"Bobby listen to yourself," Ma pleads, "What is this going to solve? You think you can go in there and attack him? Bobby he's in prison!" Bobby looks like a ticking time bomb.

"Ma, that man…he hurt Jack Ma. He hurt Jack, got him addicted to drugs…did God-knows-what to him. Then he came into _our_ house and could have done anything if Jack had been there. He could have hurt him…could have killed him had Jack not convinced me to take him that day. And now…now he had the nerve to call him on Christmas?! I'm sorry but…I just can't let this go," He says with sincerity. Then he left the house, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

When I was little I used to wonder what it would be like to have someone who cared about me. I don't really wonder about that anymore.

* * *

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	15. Chapter 15

_In a strange room you must empty yourself for sleep. And before you are emptied for sleep, what are you. And when you are emptied from sleep, you are not. And when you are filled with sleep, you never were. I don't know what I am. I don't know if I am or not._

_-As I Lay Dying_

**I Want a New Drug**

Ma had to pick Bobby up from the police station after he 'threatened an inmate and assaulted an officer'. Luckily the officer knew the events surrounding Rhett Michaels and decided against pressing charges. I know for a fact though that Bobby isn't satisfied with simply threatening him. Bobby's served time before, and Bobby has a lot of friends.

"Christmas day you spent in a holding cell," Ma had bickered. "And what did it help?" Bobby hadn't answered but when we got home he had talked to Jerry and Angel, having an 'older brother' conversation that I couldn't take part in.

"Ma, do you think Danny can come over and hang out for a while?" I ask two days after Christmas. Jerry is at his part time job, Bobby is out doing who-knows-what, and Angel has been talking on the phone all day with his 'girlfriend'.

"Of course I think he can come over," She answers excitedly. I'm not exactly loaded with friends, and Ma seemed to really like Danny last time he came over.

"Kay, great. Um, I'm gonna give em' a call," I answer. I pick up the phone and listen to Angel and his girlfriend's conversation until it gets boring.

"Angel hang up the phone," I state. His girlfriend laughs even though nothing is really funny.

"No, _you _hang up the phone. I was on here first," He answers back.

"Well you've been on the phone all day! I just gotta call my friend and ask if he wants to come over. It'll only take a second," I tell him. The girl mumbles something about me sounding cute and I roll my eyes distastefully. What was with girls and cuteness?

"Jack, hang up the phone right now before I come downstairs and beat your ass," He threatens.

"Angel! Don't say that to your brother!" The girl whines.

"Yeah, don't say that to me!" I second, silencing my laughter.

"I swear Jack, I'm gonna count three and then I'm coming after you," Angel warns. I watch the stairs cautiously, wondering if I should try to hide in my room before he comes downstairs. I decide against it though and continue my side of the argument.

"Angel if you would have just given me five seconds I would have already been off by now," I tell him.

"One…" He begins his countdown.

"Angel…it'll only take a second I swear!" I yell, backing up behind the couch. Yeah, like he can't find me there.

"Two….I swear I'm not kidding Jack," I can't stop myself from laughing now.

"Three. That's it, I'm coming after you," He declares. I rush into the laundry room where Ma is and hide behind her.

"Mom, Angel is going to kill me," I tell her. She only laughs and swats at my arm.

"Angel don't!" Angel's girlfriend complains. Gosh was she annoying. Did she really think he was going to kill me?

"Where is he?" Angel calls from the top of the stairs. I put Ma in front of me once he sees where we are.

"Jack, co 'mere now!" He demands, trying to get around Ma.

"Angel, play nice," Ma scolds, but she's laughing.

"Angel, what are you doing?" The girl continues to whine. Both Angel and I are holding a phone to our ear.

"He's killing me!" I claim as seriously as I can.

"What? Killing y-? Oh that is it! _Now_ I'm going to kill you," Angel yells, grabbing my arm hastily.

"No! Mom! Help!" I scream and laugh at the same time. She just shakes her head and tells us not to break anything.

---

"Angel, open the door!" I moan for the hundredth time. I try kicking it open once again, but he's successfully barricaded me in. After dragging me upstairs, he shoved me into his closet and secured it with a chair he's now sitting in.

"Ask me again and see what happens," He dares, continuing his conversation with his girlfriend.

"Can't we settle this like Americans? You know, eat some food, watch some T.V, listen to some bad rock music?" I suggest. When I don't get an answer, I decide to amuse myself by going through Angel's things. I take down his yearbooks and flip through the pages until I find him and Jerry.

"Wow Angel, I didn't know you had a fro sixth grade," I muse aloud. I burst out laughing when he yanks open the closet door and snatches the yearbook from my hands.

"Did I say you could look at this? No, I don't believe I did. Now sit there and don't touch my things," He orders, slamming the door closed again.

"Does that normally work? 'Cause dude, I'm still going to look through your stuff. After all, I am stuck in your closet," I say through the closed door. He continues to talk, ignoring my comment. I sit in silence for a moment before my mind goes back to Rhett and the trial.

"Hey Angel…do you think I look like my dad?" I ask randomly. At first it's quiet and I think he's still ignoring me, but then he tells his girlfriend he has to go and opens the door.

"Why would you ask that?" He answers, leaning against the doorframe. I shrug and try to walk past him, but he catches my arm.

"Can I use the phone now?" I ask, changing the subject. He frowns and shakes his head.

"In a minute, I want to talk about this first," He tells me. I sigh and sit down on the closer floor, preparing myself for a long conversation. He does the same.

"I don't know. I guess because I think I do. And you know…if I look like him then maybe I might act like him someday. I mean when I get older and have kids. That's what the guy said the other night…the apple doesn't fall far from the tree," I answer him, thinking back to the night Moro was killed. Killed because of me.

"Jack…don't believe that shit. People….people do things because they choose to do them. Not because they're in their genes or because their father did them or any of that bullshit. You have control over your own life. Over what you do. Not Rhett or Ma or anyone else. Only you. You understand that?" Angel says seriously. I think about it for a moment and I think that maybe I do understand that. And if it's true, well then, it changes a lot of things.

"Yeah I guess I do," I answer finally. He nods once, indicating the uncomfortable conversation is over, and then looks at me pointedly.

"And by the way man," He says defensively, "I did _not_ have a fro."

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	16. Chapter 16

**Note**: I'm glad you guys found the last two chapters enjoyable. Not many more to go, I promise, so hang in there. We'll all get through this together.

_Today's the Macy's Day Parade_

_The night of the living dead is on its way_

_With a credit report for duty call_

_It's a lifetime guarantee_

_Stuffed in a coffin 10 percent more free_

_Red light special at the mausoleum_

_-Green Day_

**I Want a New Drug**

"Tell me what the point of this game is again," Danny asks for about the fifth time in the last hour. I've been trying to teach him how to play video games on Jerry and Angel's Play-station, but he's proved harder to amuse than I originally thought. I guess when you're used to going to parties, getting high, and competing in knife fights, things like _Mario Race-Cart _don't raise much interest.

"Okay, you gather the balloons by pushing A. Then you shoot them at your opponent. And you try not to get shot at," I explain. He gives me his 'look' and rolls his eyes.

"Riveting," He answers sarcastically, but I'm not fooled. I've known Danny most of my life and I know he's enjoying this much more than any party. I never realized how loud, crazy, and…dangerous the things we used to do were until I was away for a while. As much as my family can get on my nerves, I wouldn't go back to the way things were for anything.

"So…word of the little incident at the prison got around fast," Danny states randomly, trying to figure out the remote control. I laugh at his failed attempts before helping him.

"What 'little incident'?" I ask curiously. Since I don't hang around with the same crowd anymore (more out of force than out of choice) I never know the 'word' on the street. He looks at me surprised.

"You know _the_ incident? With your brother and your dad? Or…Rhett I mean," He corrects himself quickly. Danny easily understands things. I shrug.

"Oh yeah, that. Bobby apparently threatened him some," I answer nonchalantly. Danny gives me the once over and pauses his game.

"It was more than a little threat Jack. Apparently Bobby hired an inside guy to really fuck him up. I mean big time. Apparently your brothers told him that if you had to testify at his funeral then he was going to sorely regret it," He informs me. I narrow my eyes subconsciously. So that's what their conversation was about the other day.

"Fuck! Why won't my brothers tell me anything? I mean…you know this shit before I do. And it's about _my_ brother and _my_ dad!" I rave. He looks at me sympathetically and turns back to the game.

"M' sorry Jack. I would have told ya' sooner I just thought ya knew," He muffles the apology. I sigh with guilt for making him feel bad.

"It's not your fault Danny. Thanks for telling me and sorry I blew up at ya," I answer. He stops the game again abruptly and sits up to face me.

"You know Jack…all those times when we were younger…drinking and smoking weed and doing all kinds of dope…" He says painfully, stopping to stare at his hands. I want to urge him to go on, but instead I patiently wait for him to continue. "It always seemed like that was it. That, that was our lives and…and we were fine with that. But Jack…I'm not fine with that anymore. I don't want to stay up all night drinking just to wake up at four in the afternoon not knowing where I am and who I fucked. I don't want to wonder what I'm going to eat, or if my dad's going to come home drunk, or if my friend's going end up dead in a gutter."

I know what he's talking about. I can remember strongly those afternoons we woke up hung over or those weekends we couldn't even recall because we were so high. At the time we thought that was what and who we were. But now…

"I'm not fine with that anymore either Danny," I admit to him.

"Can you promise me something Jack?" He asks solemnly. I nod, unsure of what to say.

"Promise me that no matter what…that you'll always be my friend," He pleads. I hug him for the first in what seems like forever.

"Always," I promise. "Always, no matter what."

---

Tonight we have what my brothers call a 'snow war'. Though really there's no way to win or lose. You simply tackle the other team, or if you're Danny and I, bombard them with snowballs. I think back to a time when snow was my enemy. When it meant raw fingers, blue lips, frozen tears, and throbbing bruises. I push those thoughts out of my head though, and for the first time in my life, I really like the snow. It's not as cold as I remember it, or as hard or as bitter tasting. For once I don't pray fervently that spring will come soon. Danny gives me a look after being tackled by Angel that tells me he's thinking the same thing.

"Boys, come in for a bit before you catch a cold! I have lots of hot chocolate," Ma calls from the door. Bobby laughs proudly and mentions something about Ma and her hot chocolate.

After being outside for so long, the house feels like a furnace. We strip our soaking wet jackets and shoes off in the laundry room, then crowd in the living where Ma's set cookies and hot mugs.

"Your mom is amazing," Danny muses. The four of us laugh in agreement.

"Yeah, she is," I answer.

* * *

The five of us are watching _Die Hard _intently as if we've never seen it before. In actuality we've all seen it at least three times, but are still engrossed in it nonetheless. When the phone rings no one moves, as if none of us had even heard it ring. 

"Jack," Ma calls holding out the phone. "It's Mr. Kirby, our lawyer," She explains to everyone's curious glances. My brothers pass knowing looks that make me slightly envious, but I ignore them for now and take the phone.

"Mr. Kirby?" I ask hesitantly. He clears his throat and speaks triumphantly.

"Yes Jack, I have some good news," He answers. He goes on when I don't answer. "You no longer have to testify at your father's trial." I can feel my eyes grow wide, as well as my family's eyes burning into my back.

"Why?" I question finally.

"Rhett Michaels changed his plea yesterday to guilty. He'll be receiving a plea bargain of twenty years without the chance of parole," He answers happily. I feel a thousand pounds lighter as I thank our lawyer and hang up the phone. I face my expectant family.

"I don't have to testify anymore," I inform them. "He's pleading guilty." Ma engulfs me in a hug, saying how wonderful that is. Daniel congratulates me and my brothers pass smug looks and high-fives when they think I'm not looking.

* * *

_Die Hard_ is one of my all time favorite movies. Happy New Year! Please read and review. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Note**: Thanks for the reviews. This is the last chapter; the end finally has arrived. If anyone has a story/plot line they'd like to read, just tell me and I'll get onto writing it. Today is my eighteenth birthday, so I decided to write this for you guys' enjoyment.

_The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,_

_But I've got promises to keep._

_And miles to go before I sleep._

_And miles to go before I sleep._

_-Robert Frost _(the morons that trashed his house have no respect for brilliant literature)

**I Want a New Drug**

So Rhett Michaels was going away for a long time. At least it is a long time in my eyes. By the time he'll be released, I'll be in my thirties. Maybe I'll be a father with my own kids. Maybe Angel is right and I'll be able to raise them the right away. Or maybe I'll be a rock star. That sounds fun.

It's almost February now and winter is coming to a close. For a while there it seemed like it would never end. Like it would be winter forever. Just like it seemed like I would be twelve forever, and here I am almost thirteen. It seems like as soon as you get used to something, it changes. Like it's some kind of conspiracy among the gods. Or maybe it's just life.

Danny's mother came up from Atlanta two days ago to see him. After she and his dad split apart when he was two, his mother had never been able to locate him. But that didn't stop her from trying. She's married now, to a GBI agent, that Danny calls 'the type of guy that thinks he's funny, but really isn't'. Still, Danny likes him okay.

"He wants me to call him 'Dad'," Danny had said with false outrage. "Can you believe that? I mean…he's cool and all but that's where I draw the line!" Though he said this with a stubborn refusal, his eyes had held a certain glint in them. A certain happiness that I had never seen before. I had told him to give it time, though secretly, I knew he didn't need any.

While Danny might have said some 'bad' things about his new dad, he certainly didn't criticize his mother or his two younger siblings. He had told me with pride that the four and six year old looked a lot like him. Danny's mom had said that Detroit was too loud and too cold for her, but that she wanted Danny with her in Florida. I had promised to visit him, and he had promised to call. They're leaving in four days.

School is like always. Well, maybe slightly different. My brothers have this supposedly secret plan to never let me go anywhere alone. Of course none of them would ever be good spies, since they're sneakiness sucks. But I'll let them follow me around, bring me to school, interrogate my friends, and knock on my bedroom door every five seconds, for now. I'm really hoping they'll grow out of it.

I still see Dr. Loren once every two weeks, mainly because it makes Ma and my brothers happy. Also, she isn't half-bad. I even found out that she saw _The Pixies _in concert. Anyone who saw _The Pixies _in concert is alright with me. She also taught me a lot, as much as I hate to admit it. She told me that memories don't go away. Ever. Despite what some people might tell me. They may lose their feeling or clearness or importance, but they're still there. I just have to learn to deal with them.

Without using drugs. Sure it's easier said than done, even with all the rehab treatments and therapy I've been doing. It takes a lot of will power and a lot of strength. Luckily I have my brothers there to threaten me when I feel like giving in. Since obviously they're not going anywhere.

"Jack….oh Jackie!" Speak of the devil. Jerry comes bursting into my room, followed by Angel and Bobby.

"Don't you guys have girlfriends, friends…_life's_?" I ask with false annoyance. I'm used to them barging in unannounced, so it actually doesn't bother me. Of course I would never admit that.

"I seem to recall a certain time when I was talking to my girlfriend and _someone_ wouldn't leave me alone," Angel reminds me. Bobby scoffs.

"Since when do _you_ have a girlfriend?" He questions sarcastically. I can tell this is about to start an argument, but Jerry stops it before it continues.

"Guys…this is boring. Let's go do something," He whines. Angel narrows his eyes at Bobby, who misses the look on the way to the door.

"Be right back," He states, leaving the room and returning seconds later with a gun.

"This, little brother, is for you," He tells me, handing it to me. I stare at, dumbfounded.

"What do you want me to do, kill someone?" I ask. I think about adding some kind of joke to the question like, 'like father like son', but decide against it. They probably wouldn't find it funny.

"It's not a real gun Jackie," Jerry stresses. "It's a paintball gun." My face must look as blank as my mind is because the three of them sigh dramatically.

"Don't tell me you've never played…" Angel comments. I shrug my shoulders and don't say anything. Bobby stands up abruptly.

"Alright girls, don't just sit there like a buncha pansies. We've got our work cut out for us," He orders, leading the way out of my bedroom. It's my turn to sigh as I grab the gun and follow them lazily.

"Did it ever occur to you guys that _I_ might actually have a life, despite the obvious absence-" I begin to ask before being interrupted.

"Jack, shut up," They all order simultaneously. Almost like it had been planned, I think, smiling at the obviousness of it. Sometimes it was nice having brothers.

_-The End-_

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